


Measuring Up

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'The Measure of Our Achievements'.  As Jim and Blair settle into their new partnership, a shadowy figure from Blair's past returns to try and break up the pair for his own reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Measuring Up

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on 10th February 2012, this story has also been tidied up a little, so hopefully should read better.

**“Measuring Up”**   


**By Katef: January 2012**  


**Part 1: Mating Rituals.**  


**852 Prospect:**  


With a sigh of relief, Consultant Forensic Profiler Dr Blair Sandburg pulled into the designated Disabled parking bay in front of the building where he shared an apartment with his lover and partner, Sentinel Detective Jim Ellison. Noting that Jim’s truck was nowhere to be seen, Blair relaxed back in his seat, rolling and stretching aching muscles in his neck and shoulders, in no hurry to haul himself out of his old but beloved converted VW microbus to make his inevitably somewhat laboured progress up to their loft apartment in #307. 

He chuckled softly at the reminiscence of Jim’s instinctive reaction the first time an unsuspecting motorist had illegally appropriated Blair’s newly-designated space, forcing Blair to find a spot at some distance from the building and seriously complicating his approach and entrance. Jim, bursting with righteous fury, had awaited the culprit’s return, then, flashing his Detective’s gold shield and employing his most intimidating interrogation persona, so terrified the poor man without so much as laying a finger on him that he had beaten a hasty retreat and had given the neighbourhood a wide berth ever since. Word must have gotten around after that, because Blair had never again been deprived of his parking spot since then. 

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headrest, he allowed himself a few minutes’ quiet contemplation as he recalled the events of the day. 

In all honesty, it had been a bitch of a day, nearly all of which had been spent in the courthouse, where Blair had been kicking his heels for hours awaiting the call to appear as an expert witness for the Prosecution in the case of serial rapist Michael Turner. 

Turner had been arrested _in flagrante_ as a result of Blair’s involvement in his first high-profile case working with Cascade PD’s Vice and Major Crimes units, where his forensic psychological profiling ability and empathic instincts had had a significant impact on the success of the capture. Although the evidence of Turner’s guilt was overwhelming, and he had even boasted of his crimes to the arresting officers, his lawyer was trying to plead diminished responsibility in an effort to reduce his sentence, maybe even avoiding jail time altogether if he could be proven to be mentally incompetent, and committed to a psychiatric hospital instead. 

Blair had been called in his capacity as a forensic profiler by the Prosecution, carefully and objectively outlining his methodology and conclusions, but knowing only too well that the Defence would try and lead him astray into the realms of psychiatric evaluation and personal opinion in an attempt to convince the jury of his client’s uncertain mental state or even suggest that the evidence against him was compromised by misconceptions and flawed investigation within the PD itself. 

Even though Blair knew himself to be reasonably competent in the latter field, he also knew only too well that cases had been won or lost on conflicting or even erroneous evidence or opinions of so-called expert witnesses whose over-inflated egos led them to stray outside their particular areas of expertise, so he had resolutely refused to be drawn by the lawyer’s most persuasive cross-examination techniques to the man’s obvious annoyance, and left the witness stand relieved but exhausted by the sheer concentration required to maintain his objectivity.   


\----------------------------  


Initially he had been unsure of his welcome at Cascade PD as a private consultant, having experienced all-too-frequently blatantly expressed misapprehension and disbelief in regard to his usefulness considering both his youthful appearance and his physical disability. However, as in virtually every police department he had worked in thus far, he had quickly convinced the majority of personnel of his integrity and capability, although the ultimate success of the case had had mixed blessings as far as the young professor was concerned. 

As well as being a Quantico-trained forensic profiler, young Dr Sandburg also had a Masters in Cultural Anthropology (Sentinel Studies) and a second doctorate in Physical Anthropology, so had applied his interest in this subject also to the forensic field, thus being able to stand in as a competent ‘bone man’ when required in cases of investigation into potential homicides or otherwise suspicious deaths. He also taught a few classes at Rainier University at the request of his old mentor, Dr Eli Stoddard, so his workload frequently bordered on manic. 

But by far the most important element of his wide-ranging ability in his own eyes was that of being a highly rated empath and potential Guide to an alpha Sentinel. 

These highly-regarded individuals had all five senses enhanced to an incredible degree through a natural genetic variation, and to Blair, becoming a bonded Guide and helpmeet to one such paragon formed the ultimate achievement as far as he was concerned. However, his cherished hopes had been brought crashing down at his feet within seconds of being formally introduced to the Sentinel who was the walking embodiment of his wildest dreams. 

Sentinel Detective Jim Ellison, buff, handsome and aggressively anti-social had instantly excited and impressed Blair, who had felt the immediate pull of attraction between potentially compatible partners, only to have the big cop shoot him down in flames at their first attempt at communication. Unfortunately for Blair, at that time Jim was in no mood to take on any Guide, however talented and beautiful, especially one who had been partially crippled as a result of a devastating accident that had occurred during one of the young man’s expeditions as an anthropology student. 

No, Jim had fought the mutual attraction tooth and nail, deliberately distancing himself from the support and guidance offered to him by the devastated young man to such a degree that his exasperated Captain, Simon Banks, had literally been at the point of splitting up the turbulent temporary partnership in an effort to protect the young Guide, certain that prolonged contact with the irascible Sentinel was seriously detrimental to the professor’s physical and mental health. 

However, at that point Fate had stepped in, dealing yet another crippling blow to the already shaky and heart-sick consultant. 

Returning to his tiny apartment, he had received a phone call informing him that his beloved mother Naomi – his only known relative and the brain-damaged survivor of a brutal assault – was at death’s door as a result of a serious stroke occurring at the expensive Santa Monica hospice where Blair had managed to place her, slaving every available hour to be able to afford the exorbitant amounts of money needed for her care and treatment. Just as he was about to leave his apartment to rush to her side, he had been at first startled, then pathetically grateful find Jim at his door, the Sentinel having finally ‘come to his senses’ and accepting that this Guide belonged to him, and was very much his responsibility. 

Recognising at last that he could no longer deny his attraction to the young professor, and realising that his role as Blair’s Sentinel required him to bond with and cherish the beautiful, if fragile, young man, Jim had arrived at Blair’s unit, fully intending to comfort and support his soon-to-be Guide in whatever capacity he was required to serve. 

After Naomi’s passing, the pair had finally bonded and Jim, grimly shouldering the hefty load of guilt he felt at causing Blair so much distress during their previous dysfunctional ‘partnership’, set himself the task of comforting and caring for the young man until his health and peace of mind had improved enough for them to return to a comfortable working relationship at the PD just a few months ago.  


\----------------------  


Having committed fully to each other, one of the first priorities for Jim had been to persuade his new Guide to move in with him, desperately needing to keep the young man safe in his territory, and also to get him out of the shabby unit he had been forced to rent as the majority of his earnings had been channelled into the coffers of Naomi’s expensive and up-market hospice. 

Although the third floor loft apartment wasn’t the most convenient choice for a partially disabled man, with some sensible remodelling, and a lot of pressure on the building’s owners and superintendent, the appropriate fixtures and fittings had been provided as per the city’s guidelines for disabled access, and the elevator was almost always functioning now. Blair was more than happy with the new arrangements, loving the spacious apartment and basking in the companionship of his Sentinel lover, but he was aware that Jim was monitoring the situation carefully, and that the older man was more than willing to look for a more suitable property if necessary in the future. Since Blair also had more money available to put towards the upkeep of such a place now, there would be no problem in obtaining a substantial mortgage between them. 

However, Blair knew he would give everything he had to have his mother back again....  


\----------------------  


Shaking himself out of his temporary depression at that train of thought, he suddenly realised that Jim’s truck had pulled up alongside while he was still sitting around wool-gathering, so he pushed himself to get moving, pasting a cheerful grin on his face with the ease of a consummate actor, and trying to convey the impression that he had much more energy and less pain than was actually the case. In truth, he knew he wasn’t fooling Jim, because the Sentinel would no doubt have been cataloguing his every physical function for long minutes already, but it was against his nature to solicit sympathy or pity, so he hastened as best he could to climb out of the VW, walking stick at the ready as he steadied himself against the vehicle’s door. 

“Hey, man! I wasn’t expecting you just yet! I thought Simon wanted you to catch up with all that outstanding paperwork today as I was tied up in the courthouse!” 

Smiling up into Jim’s handsome face, which was wearing an expression of fond exasperation, he let all the love and devotion he had for his Sentinel shine out of his eyes even as he reached up his free hand to cup Jim’s cheek. 

Reaching up his own hand to trap his lover’s smaller one against his face, Jim turned his head slightly to kiss the palm of the captive appendage before saying, “All caught up with, Junior! See, just because I don’t _like_ paperwork, and push it over to my willing slave whenever I can, doesn’t mean that I’m incapable of doing it when forced. It’s just a whole lot more fun when we can do it together, sweetheart!” 

“Hah! You flatterer, you!” chuckled Blair. Then, face assuming a more serious expression he continued, “I’m glad you didn’t have to go out today though, lover. I always worry when I can’t be there with you, even if I can’t be proper back-up in dangerous situations. I know Megan and Joel are good stand-in guides when necessary, and they’re certainly better than me in a fire-fight, but I just hate to let you out of my sight. It’s so selfish of me...” and he dropped his gaze, hating himself for the sudden tears threatening to spill from his eyes and for the abrupt change of mood for the worse. 

Instantly concerned, Jim tilted his lover’s face up again with a gentle finger beneath his chin, saying, “Hey now, baby, what brought that on? I promised I wouldn’t go out on a case unless it was unavoidable without letting you know. Is there something I should know about, little one?” 

Sniffling a little, and inwardly cursing himself for his show of weakness, Blair replied, “I’m sorry, Jim. It was a pretty stressful day in court, and I guess I’m really tired. I didn’t mean to kill the mood, honestly. 

“It’s just that, on days like this, when I get to confront dirt-bags like Turner and his sleazy defence lawyer, I realise how much danger you and your fellow cops face on a daily basis, and I worry that something awful will happen in the next couple of weeks before you retire officially. I couldn’t bear it if you were to get hurt, especially if I wasn’t there with you....” 

“Don’t borrow trouble, baby. You know I’ll be especially careful now, and Simon has as good as promised that he’ll do his best to keep me out of the line of fire while I’m working my notice. If he wasn’t doing it for me, he’d be doing it for you, baby, because he’s very fond of you and wouldn’t want to see his favourite consultant upset. 

“I’m just glad that you accepted my argument that a new career as a PI and Security Consultant would satisfy my need to protect the tribe without the added danger of getting involved in take-down situations and fire-fights. Truth be told, little one, I can’t wait to get started. The challenge of a new business really appeals to me right now, especially since I get my own personal profiler thrown in! 

“Not only that, lover,” he continued rather more soberly, “I’ve got someone to live for now, so I’m not sorry to be getting off Cascade’s mean streets.” 

Wrapping his arm around Blair’s shoulders, he squeezed the smaller man fondly, and turned him towards the building, hefting his lover’s heavy briefcase even as he surreptitiously encouraged Blair to lean into his supporting strength. 

Well aware of what Jim was doing and loving him for his concern, but with no intention of calling him on it and risking embarrassing his lover, Blair relaxed a little and said, “I’m looking forward to it also, Jim. I was thinking that Eli probably won’t mind too much if I cut down on my teaching at Rainier now, so I’ll be able to spend more time with you in your new office in between my cases at the PD. 

“I’ve already sounded out the best software programmes for your new databases, and Giles in IT has given me some ideas about how to streamline your search engines...” and he was off and running much to Jim’s delight, his customary enthusiasm coming to the fore, and the momentary depression shoved back down where it belonged.  


\-------------------------------  


**The Loft, later that evening:**  


Turning his wandering attention away from the basketball replay match currently playing softly on the TV, Jim looked down at the curly head resting on a pillow on his lap where Blair had finally fallen asleep curled beside his big partner on the sofa. Gently carding the silky curls as the young man snuffled softly in his sleep, Jim smiled down at his quiet Guide, thinking how young and vulnerable he looked, but also how calm and relaxed, face smooth and apparently free from the lines of stress and constant pain, unless it be to Sentinel vision. 

Jim was well aware that his beloved Guide suffered on a daily basis from the results of his injuries, whether from mild discomfort through to real pain depending on the extent of his activity. Knowing that Blair tried very hard to avoid taking his extra-strength painkillers unless in real agony, Jim tried to help by using his talented hands and Sentinel touch to massage the injured limb and any other areas such as tension-knotted neck and shoulder muscles to alleviate his lover’s pain and stress. 

Although Blair had continued to chatter happily as they reached the loft, it was plain to Jim that he was pretty much running on fumes, and it wouldn’t be too long until he crashed. Despite his protestations, therefore, Jim had insisted gently but firmly that he go and have a quick shower and change into something more comfortable than his court suit while Jim prepared a simple but filling dinner of steak, baked potatoes and salad. By the time Blair emerged from the bathroom dressed in his favourite sweats and his damp curls already fluffing out around his head, Jim had the BBQ fired up and everything good to go. 

Smiling lovingly at his big lover, Blair limped carefully over to the kitchen where he was greeted with open arms, returning Jim’s hug with one of his own, and reaching up for a kiss. 

“I love you so much, Jim,” he whispered, sincerity and adoration plain in his face and voice. “You’re so good to me!” and he nuzzled Jim’s neck almost purring in contentment. 

“It’s no more than you deserve, baby,” replied his besotted lover, then his voice became coloured by regret as he continued, “I should have been doing this from the first moment I saw you. I’m just so sorry it took me so long to get my head out from my ass and realise how much you meant to me.” 

Not wanting Jim to wallow in guilt as he was prone to do, Blair quickly pushed himself away slightly so he could meet Jim’s unhappy gaze with a firm one of his own. 

“Oh no, Big Guy! No more of that, please! What’s done is done, and I for one am only too grateful for what I have now, and what you do for me. I have everything I could want, and the only thing that could make my life better is for Mom to be back with me, but since that can never happen, I want to enjoy all that I do have, and that is nearly all down to you now, lover.” 

Just then, a huge yawn took him by surprise as his exhaustion caught up with him, and he grinned sheepishly, peeking up at Jim from beneath his lashes and quite unconsciously looking impossibly adorable in Jim’s opinion. 

Dropping a kiss on the crown of the curly head beneath his chin, Jim gently steered his drooping Guide over to sit on the sofa, where he eased Blair’s bad leg up to rest on a pillow on the coffee table. 

“Take a load off for a few, Chief,” he murmured. “Dinner’ll be ready shortly, then you can get an early night, OK?” 

Smiling gratefully, Blair nodded in agreement, then, leaning his head back against the comfy cushions, fell asleep almost immediately. 

Jim managed to rouse his somnolent partner just enough to get a reasonable amount of food inside him, then settled him on the sofa once again while he did the clean-up. Although he had suggested that Blair go up to bed, he readily gave in to the puppy dog eyes turned full force on him as his smaller lover insisted that he would prefer to snuggle up next to Jim for a while rather than go to bed on his own. 

That had been a couple of hours ago now, and Blair had fallen asleep again almost immediately once Jim had joined him on the sofa, settling the curly head on a throw pillow on his lap and tucking a cosy Afghan around the slender body curled up beside him. 

Bored with the game, and not particularly bothered about watching anything else, Jim switched off the TV, and placed the remote on the coffee table, content to watch over his Guide for a while until getting them both to bed. Contemplating the peaceful face, Jim was struck once again with how young Blair was, and how much he had achieved in his short life thus far. 

It never ceased to amaze him how well-qualified his partner was, and how many roles he fulfilled with apparent ease. Not only was he the best Guide Jim could possibly have wished for, but he was also a popular teacher at Rainier, and a more than competent forensic anthropologist who had impressed Dan Wolf, the PD’s resident ME. Add to that his already formidable reputation in the world of forensic profiling, and it was hardly surprising to Jim that his young lover was held in high regard by nearly all who made his acquaintance. 

However, despite his confidence and capability in his chosen roles, Blair remained the least egotistical person Jim had ever met. In fact, in ordinary everyday social situations, Blair was actually painfully shy beneath the breezy, chatty exterior, and had serious problems with his low self-esteem which had been exacerbated by his devastating injury. Jim knew he hadn’t helped his Guide any in that department in the early days of their partnership, constantly ignoring or belittling the young man, so convinced was he that bonding with any Guide was more trouble than it was worth. 

He was also well aware that Blair’s health had suffered thanks to Jim’s indifferent attitude, so he was doing his level best to remedy the situation now, making sure the young man was warm and well-fed and doing everything he could to alleviate any problems or physical discomfort caused by Blair’s disability. 

As his mood darkened, he became aware of the slight frown wrinkling his Guide’s smooth forehead, and realised that even in his sleep the empath in Blair was disturbed by his Sentinel’s troubled thoughts. Deliberately shelving his self-criticism, Jim smiled fondly as he gently eased himself out from under his sleeping lover, quickly doing the rounds of securing the apartment for the night before carefully scooping up the slender figure and climbing up to their bedroom. 

Tucking Blair comfortably into the large bed, Jim quickly stripped down to his boxers and curled protectively around the smaller man, swiftly following his lover into slumber.  


\----------------------------------  


**Part 2: The Enemy Unseen:**  


The following morning, Blair awoke to find himself alone in the big bed. However, before he could utter any complaint or grow concerned, Jim appeared at the top of the stairs holding a mug of fragrant coffee and wearing nothing but a pair of silk boxers and a wide smile. 

Putting the mug down on the nightstand, Jim sat on the bed beside his young lover and gently grasped the slender body beneath the armpits in a practiced move designed to ease Blair up into a comfortable sitting position, as his leg inevitably stiffened up during the night making his first movements of the morning awkward and uncomfortable if unaided. Smiling in appreciation of Jim’s automatic consideration, Blair sipped his coffee and let his eyes roam over his Sentinel’s impressive body. 

“Hmmmmmm...lovely!” he murmured, his teasing expression making it unclear as to whether he was referring to the coffee or the view. Raising a quizzical eyebrow, Jim responded in kind by plucking the coffee mug from Blair’s grasp and taking a large sip, leering comically at the smaller man over the rim. 

Bursting into happy laughter, Blair chuckled, “OK, OK! You KNOW I think you’re gorgeous and studly, but please can I have my coffee back?” he finished with a definite whine, holding out his hand for the mug and treating his lover to one of his best pleading puppy-dog expressions. 

Unable to resist, Jim handed over the mug saying, “How’re you feeling this morning, babe? You had a good long sleep, and I wanted to let you lie in, as Simon called a bit earlier.” 

At his Guide’s slightly puzzled glance, he continued, “Simon said that you won’t have to take the stand again in the Turner case as it should be wrapped up one way or the other today. Apparently you did a good job yesterday, and his defence council hasn’t been able to come up with any more evidence, so it’ll just be closing statements and over to the jury. Hopefully the scumbag will get what’s coming to him and do some serious jail-time rather than get away with a stint in a psychiatric ward. We can but hope, anyway. 

“So, since you won’t be won’t be waiting around for a court appearance, I thought I’d ask Simon for a personal day to get some finishing touches completed in our new office, and I wondered if you’d be free to join me?” 

Grinning with no little relief at being spared another stint in the witness box, Blair replied, “Well, I do have to spend a couple of hours at Rainier as I had to cancel my office hours yesterday, but I could come in after that. Perhaps we can get lunch?” he added hopefully. 

“Sounds like a plan, baby! Now, shall we save water and share a shower?” 

Nodding happily, Blair held his hands out, letting Jim help him to his feet, and leaning gratefully into his lover’s supporting arm, they made their way down to the bathroom to enjoy a very satisfying shower.  


\------------------------------  


Meanwhile, in one of the smarter of Cascade’s suburbs, Adrian Milford sat in front of his PC in his comfortable den, smiling in grim satisfaction at the information his latest Google search had netted him. Added to that already supplied by the local and national press, he was confident that he had positively identified the object of his quest, one Dr Blair Sandburg. 

Adrian was a handsome man in his late middle age. Tanned and fit, and sporting a full head of distinguished-looking iron grey hair, he still drew his share of admiring glances and attention, especially from the rich widows whose company he favoured. 

Thanks to the small fortune left to him from the disposal of his workaholic parents’ private medical practice after they had been conveniently killed in a light aircraft accident while he was away at college, Adrian had never actually worked in his life. 

Deliberately eschewing any suggestion of following in his parents’ footsteps, he turned his considerable intelligence towards completing his degree in business and associated studies, and, thus armed, was able to ensure the growth of his capital and other material assets with judicious investments over the years such that he had maintained an understated but comfortable lifestyle even during the present economic down-turn. Frequently bolstered by income from the various gullible widows whose attention he occasionally courted, Adrian was generally content with his life thus far. 

The only blight in his otherwise rosy existence was the growing conviction that he would have liked to have a son to whom he could leave his wealth in the fullness of time, and who could provide him with companionship and intelligent conversation in his later life. 

Naturally, his chosen lifestyle of self-indulgent comfort and unencumbered travel had precluded any suggestion of marriage, so he had shelved any real attempt at achieving this somewhat nebulous desire until a chance meeting in Santa Monica nearly seven years ago had jolted him into action.  


\------------------------  


During a pleasant few weeks’ stay in one of Santa Monica’s nicer hotels, Adrian had met up with a very attractive and free-spirited woman with whom he was content to spend some time in mutually pleasurable and uncomplicated companionship. Although Naomi Sandburg wasn’t in the mould of the wealthy widows he normally courted, she was beautiful, fun, and very sexually satisfying, so Adrian had thoroughly enjoyed the dalliance. 

Never one to keep silent, Naomi had chatted on about anything and everything, but Adrian had been particularly impressed – and not a little jealous – of her glowing descriptions of her only son Blair, and the young prodigy’s academic achievements. 

As the relationship progressed, however, Adrian began to have an uneasy feeling that he and Naomi had met before, so he carefully steered their conversations in that direction. 

Sure enough, Naomi cheerfully described her free-wheeling, hippy youth, when sex and drugs and endless music festivals ensured that no one was feeling any pain, and free love was just that – simple pleasure with no questions asked. 

Adrian had himself hovered on the fringes of the movement, indulging in the benefits of the hippy culture, although he was always fully aware and in control, cynically manipulating and preying on the drugged-out hippy girls he enjoyed to the full. When Naomi confessed that she had no idea who had actually fathered her beloved son, Adrian began to put two and two together, and came up with the realisation that it was more than possible that Blair could, in fact be his. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became, so that he eventually broached the subject with Naomi, fully expecting her to greet his claim with joy and open arms. 

He was taken aback, however, at her actual reaction, which was very far from what he had happily anticipated. 

Naomi might well have come over to many of her acquaintances as a ditzy air-head, but she was, in fact, a highly intelligent woman in her own right. Although she too had no compunction in indulging herself in light, pleasure-filled dalliances with attractive partners, she was no longer a naive teen, and was not to be taken in by smooth-talking Casanovas like Adrian Milford. Satisfying sex and pleasant company was all very well, but there was no way in hell Naomi was going to help the man contact or otherwise get his claws into Blair, and she had made that very clear on their final date. 

Inwardly furious at the negative response, Adrian had clamped down viciously on his initial disappointment and hidden his burning resentment with no little difficulty. However, as soon as the opportunity had presented itself, he had slipped Rohypnol into Naomi’s drink, and escorted his woozy companion out of the bar and back to his hotel room to take his revenge. Finally giving in to his angry frustration, he had brutally assaulted Naomi in a violent attack, punishing her for denying him the chance to meet someone who could turn out to be his own flesh and blood. 

Coming to his senses in the aftermath of the assault he managed to sneak his battered victim unseen out of the hotel, and abandoned her on the beach, uncaring as to whether or not she survived. After all, even if she did, he assumed that the Rohypnol-induced amnesia following such an episode should ensure his anonymity. 

Even so, the following morning he checked out of his hotel and decided it would be prudent to make himself scarce for a while until he considered it safe to return to the US. Making his home in the South of France for a year or two came as no hardship, although he kept up to date with events back home. He learned that Naomi had, in fact, survived, but with significant brain damage, for which Adrian was greatly relieved. However, he had no intention of risking her getting her memory back and accusing him retrospectively of assault, so he kept a low profile even on his return, only pursuing his goal of meeting up with his son once the bitch was finally dead.  


\-----------------------------  


With Naomi conveniently out of the way, Adrian doubled his efforts in his campaign to track down his potential heir, wanting to learn everything he could about the young man before confronting him. 

He was gratified and intrigued by his son’s undeniable beauty. Yes, he knew himself to be a handsome man, and Naomi had certainly been a lovely woman, but Blair was exquisite. Not only was he physically attractive, but he was possessed of an inner glow which was apparent even in the many candid photographs and blurry screen shots Adrian had gathered over the years, particularly since he had expanded his search in recent months, such that he could hardly wait to meet the young man in the flesh. 

Adrian was impressed by and vicariously proud of Blair’s achievements, and smugly satisfied with the generally high regard in which his son was held. He was fairly certain that he had copies of everything his talented son had written, on whatever subject, and was in the habit of flipping through the pages of the articles in question, basking in the knowledge that he himself had had a hand in creating such brilliance.... 

On the other hand, he was naturally upset by the devastating effects of Blair’s injury, which were glaringly apparent to the self-proclaimed parent as he now deliberately set about stalking his son, looking for the most opportune circumstances in which to orchestrate their momentous meeting. 

The recent discovery that his brilliant son was a Guide, and enjoying an alternative lifestyle with a buff and handsome Sentinel Detective shocked Adrian to the core. As his quest now bordered on obsession, he grimly determined to ‘rescue’ his errant offspring, certain that he could show the young man the error of his ways, and thereafter cultivate an appropriate relationship between father and son. 

Settled in his comfortable but temporary rented house, he made his plans.  


\----------------------------------  


**Rainier Campus, late morning:**  


Knowing that Blair would be using the Disabled parking bay right outside Hargrove Hall, Adrian knew he wouldn’t have the opportunity to engineer a confrontation before the young man drove off, so he waited patiently at some distance across the parking lot, fully intending to distract and waylay Blair before he could exit the campus via his usual route. Having followed his quarry from apartment to Rainier, he had settled himself to wait until his son reappeared, however long that might take, having previously noted and thus avoided the normal routes taken by the University’s token Security patrols. 

Sure enough, his patience was rewarded after only a few hours, as he saw the young professor leaving Hargrove Hall, chatting animatedly to the cheerful student who was helpfully pushing Blair’s wheelchair. Adrian knew from his frequent observation that Blair didn’t always use the wheelchair if he could avoid it, so the older man assumed that his son’s leg was either giving him more trouble than usual today, or perhaps access within the building today was better served by Blair using that mode of transport. 

Either way, Adrian wasn’t concerned, because he already knew how he was going to secure his son’s company, even if initially reluctantly granted. 

As Blair drove towards the campus exit, cheerfully contemplating lunch and a few hours spent with his lover at their new office, he was momentarily distracted by the approach of a large, deep blue SUV with dark-tinted windows pulling up alongside him. As the driver’s side window wound down, he glanced over to see an older man gazing intently at him, and waving urgently to attract his attention before pointing ahead to indicate his intention of pulling in in front of Blair’s ancient VW. 

Intrigued rather than irritated by the gesture, Blair pulled in immediately behind the SUV, and wound his own window down to speak to the driver who had climbed down from his vehicle to approach Blair, handsome face set in a worried frown. 

Empathy fully engaged, Blair was immediately aware of the older man’s controlled gravity and determination even as he automatically catalogued the other’s physical appearance. The man was in his late middle age, but still fit and attractive, with a full head of thick iron grey hair. Taller than average, he obviously kept himself in good shape, and wore the well-cut and expensive designer casual clothing that denoted both good taste and serious money. As he reached Blair’s open window, he offered a brief, if grim smile before saying, “Dr Sandburg? I’m so very sorry to delay you, but I have some urgent news concerning Detective Ellison, which I thought you should know about immediately....” 

Instantly alarmed, even as he instinctively accessed their empathic link for evidence that Jim was hurt in any way, Blair failed to notice the hypodermic syringe half hidden in the other’s raised hand until it plunged into his unprotected shoulder, and his world went black. 

Swiftly checking for likely witnesses and finding none, Milford quickly opened the driver’s door and released Blair’s seatbelt before scooping up the unconscious figure to deposit the limp bundle in the back seat of the idling SUV. Returning to old VW, he pulled out Blair’s custom-built folding wheelchair and deposited that also in the SUV’s trunk. Leaving everything else in the ancient microbus, he made his escape, maintaining his cool exterior and resisting any temptation to burn rubber and draw unnecessary attention to himself as he drove sedately away from the campus. 

After a few miles of undetected travel, he allowed himself a satisfied smile as he pulled in to Cascade Airport’s Long Stay Parking, unfolding the wheelchair before easing his unconscious passenger out and settling him comfortably in the chair. Covering the springy curls with a wide-brimmed hat, and carefully covering the closed eyes with wraparound sunglasses, Adrian gently tucked a concealing blanket over Blair’s lap despite the uncharacteristically warm late summer’s day. Pulling out a wheeled carry-on suitcase, he gripped the wheelchair’s handles firmly then made his way to Departures where he checked them both in for their pre-booked flight to New Mexico and Blair’s new home. 

As he waited to board the aircraft, Adrian contemplated Blair’s sleeping face, and ran yet again over his plan to secrete his son in his favourite property in Taos Ski Valley for however long it took to break the young man’s unnatural link to his Sentinel and establish Adrian’s much desired father – son relationship.  


\------------------------------  


**Earlier that day, Cascade Business District:**  


Smiling happily to himself, Jim smoothed his hand over the beautifully planed surface of the bookshelves he had just completed fitting in their new office suite, knowing that Blair would thoroughly approve of his handiwork as he had with all the rest of the fixtures and fittings thus far. 

Having made the decision to retire from the PD and set up in business as a PI and Security Consultant, Jim had happily utilised part of the previously untouched legacy left to him by his long-departed mother to purchase the lease of a bright and airy office suite in one of the newer buildings in Cascade’s up-and-coming business district. With Blair’s full cooperation and blessing, he had made his choice, and so far had had no reason to regret it as he gazed contentedly around him, automatically cataloguing a few minor adjustments needed to make the otherwise pleasant and well-equipped rooms completely satisfactory to Sentinel perception. 

Checking the time, he realised that it was approaching lunchtime, so he smiled wider in anticipation of an enjoyable meal with his beautiful young partner, followed by a few hours’ companionable work in the office during which Blair would undoubtedly lose himself in the computer systems while Jim finished off the small tasks he had previously noted. 

With just over a week to go before his official retirement, Jim knew that he could virtually step from one career to the next almost immediately, but he had already decided to try and persuade Blair to take a short – and, to Jim’s way of thinking – much-needed break to enjoy a little mutual down-time before jumping straight into the challenges of the new business. 

Even as he contemplated possible destinations for such a break, and already marshalling his arguments to sway his Guide to his way of thinking, he was suddenly struck by nothing less than an empathic shockwave, and he reeled at the impact, clutching at the edge of the nearest desk in an effort to keep himself upright. Shaking his head in an effort to control the incipient headache, he knew instinctively that something was very wrong with his Guide, and snarling in almost feral fury, he grabbed jacket, cell phone and wallet, automatically checking his sidearm and car keys as he barrelled out of the office, heading for the elevator with Blessed Protector mode in full control. 

Teeth gritted in tension as the elevator made its way down to the parking garage; he fairly leapt into his truck and peeled out of the exit, breaking more than a few speed limits in his urgent need to reach Rainier and his Guide. 

Within a remarkably short time, although it felt like an eternity to the distraught Sentinel, Jim arrived at Rainier and screeched to a halt outside Hargrove Hall, where he leapt out of his truck and gazed frantically around him, senses on high alert and searching for any sign of his Guide’s whereabouts. Quickly ascertaining that there was no trace of the beloved heartbeat in the vicinity, Jim looked further afield and spotted the old green VW way over by the campus’ North exit; the one Blair usually used on his way downtown to the PD and the business district. 

Saving time by driving over to the location, Jim parked up and swiftly began to check out the vehicle and surrounding area for clues as to what had befallen his lover. The old VW had apparently been abandoned, with the keys still in the ignition, and nothing appeared to be missing except for Blair himself and his wheelchair. His laptop bag and briefcase sat in the front passenger seat footwell, and his cell phone lay where it had been carelessly dropped on the seat itself, no doubt by its owner. There were no indications of a struggle, and, to Jim’s relief, no scent nor sign of blood spilt, but his superior sense of smell detected the tang of anxiety in Blair’s residual scent, if not actual fear. 

Likewise there was no hint of chloroform or similar, and no minute traces of an electrical charge which would have indicated the use of a taser weapon or stun gun to subdue his lover. 

Growling in frustration, Jim quickly called Simon Banks directly, needing to get things moving as soon as possible in the search for his missing Guide. 

After just three rings, the phone was picked up and Simon’s gruff, “Banks!” could be heard down the line. Knowing by his phone’s caller ID display that it was Jim on the line, and well aware that Jim wouldn’t be calling him on his work number during a personal day unless something was very wrong, Simon wasn’t inclined to waste time on niceties. 

Sure enough, his best detective cut straight to the chase barking, “Simon! Blair’s been snatched! I’m at Rainier in the parking lot, and his VW’s here, but no trace of Blair or his wheelchair! You need to get out an APB immediately!” 

“Now Jim, just hold on for a moment,” his Captain replied, needing to get more information on which to act other than Jim’s few terse sentences. “First off, are you sure Blair hasn’t just gone off with some student or fellow teacher for a bit? Lunch perhaps?” 

“No, Simon!” came the immediate response. “We were going to have lunch together and spend some time at the new office after Blair had finished at Rainier. He would have let me know if he was delayed, Simon! He would have called!” 

“OK, OK, Jim. I believe you. I know the kid wouldn’t deliberately upset you, but what if there was some emergency? He might be caught up somewhere out of cell phone range – that is, if he’s actually got it with him....” he added wryly, like Jim being well aware that the young man was prone to forget to charge his cell, even if he remembered to carry it with him. 

He was rewarded by a sigh of frustration as Jim replied, ‘‘You’re right, Simon. His cell’s on the front seat of the VW, so I guess it’s a possibility. 

“But my gut tells me that there’s something seriously wrong, Captain. And I know it’s hard for you to understand, but the bond warned me something had happened, just an hour or so ago. I was in the office admiring my handiwork and the next minute I had a real empathic shock – nearly knocked my head off! I’m telling you Simon, he’s in real trouble!” 

Convinced by Jim’s vehemence as much as by his own fondness for the young professor, Simon made his decision and replied, “OK, Jim. I’ll get the ball rolling with a forensics team, although I know you’ll have already have been over the scene. We’ll take the car in and get it thoroughly checked over, and start calling round hospitals and such. I suggest that you get campus security on board and see if any of their guards saw anything suspicious, and see if they’ve got any security cameras in the vicinity. 

“And I’m on my way, Jim. Wait for me there. I’m fond of him too, you know,” and he hung up before Jim could answer, already barking out orders to his team to start the search for the missing Guide.  


\------------------------  


As he drove carefully but as quickly as possible to the scene, the tall African American captain chewed angrily on his habitual cigar, wondering for the thousandth time why his best team, and the young profiler in particular, couldn’t seem to get a break. As a _mundane_ , Simon couldn’t really comprehend the full significance of the Sentinel / Guide bond, but, unlike many of his fellow police captains, he was at least prepared to give credence to information from that source, however intangible. The successful track records of such pairings in many walks of life, not just within police departments, were proof that there was something special about a bonded pair’s empathic link, as indeed there was about their compulsion to protect the tribe. 

And over and above that driving compulsion, was the even greater one to protect and cherish each other. 

Yes, his own favourite pair had had a rocky start, thanks to Jim’s initial recalcitrance, but once bonded, Simon had never witnessed closeness such as theirs, and was, indeed, somewhat envious of their symbiotic relationship in which they really were two halves of an amazing whole. 

Now he prayed that Blair would be returned to his lover unharmed, because he was damned sure that if the young man died, Jim would soon follow.  


\-------------------------  


Even as Simon drove to Rainier, Jim was talking to the head of Security, Suzanne Tomaki, and barely controlling his disgust and anger at the information – or lack of it – that he had gathered thus far. Although genuinely apologetic, Suzanne made it quite clear that she was seriously compromised by the cuts in expenditure forced on the university by the current administration, much of which had directly impacted on her department. Short-staffed and overworked, she had been forced to concentrate her dwindling number of guards’ efforts into patrolling the campus buildings and closer parking lots, leaving the further lots more or less unattended. 

Not only that, but the campus CCTV cameras were now limited to covering the main entrance, the buildings themselves and their immediate vicinity, leaving the other exits unprotected, so there was no help to be gleaned from that source. 

In Jim’s jaundiced opinion, the only surprise about this deeply unsatisfactory situation was that there hadn’t been any serious incident before now. 

Forcibly turning his attention away from the hapless Tomaki as the forensics team arrived, Jim spotted Simon’s brown sedan pulling up behind his truck, and strode over to apprise his superior of what he had learned thus far. 

“Thanks for coming Simon! This is worse than I thought! Campus Security has been pared down to such an extent that they’re virtually non-functioning, and I don’t think forensics will get any more evidence than I’ve noted already. 

“There are some fingerprints on the VW’s doors that might be of some help, but otherwise as kidnappings go, there’s nothing to see!” 

Seeing Simon’s mouth open in question, and already knowing what his captain was likely to ask, he hurried on, “I know, Simon! I _know_ everyone probably thinks I’m panicking for no good reason, and that Blair’s just off visiting with some other colleague or some such, but there’s no mistaking our link, Captain. I _felt_ his shock, and now there’s nothing. I mean, it’s not disappeared,” he hurried on, seeing the beginnings of shock in Simon’s face. “He’s not dead, because I’d certainly know that!” he continued, with a pained expression. 

“But it’s fuzzy – indistinct, if you like, and he’s not responding to me. He’s either deeply asleep, drugged or both, and it’s scaring the crap out of me!” 

Resting a comforting hand on his worried friend’s shoulder, Simon replied, “I believe you, Jim. You’re right in that I don’t really understand how your Sentinel / Guide voodoo works, but I’ve seen enough to know that it does, and if you say Blair’s in danger, then so be it. Our only problem is how to proceed without tangible proof. Even fingerprints on the VW won’t be any use unless the guy’s on a database somewhere. 

“I suggest we go back to the PD and get on with pulling any of your files which could throw a light on someone grabbing Sandburg to get back at you in some way. You never know, we may already have something to go on if the team’s pulled up travel information...” and, so saying, he steered Jim firmly towards his own car, intending to get the pair of them back to the PD as quickly – and safely – as possible by driving them there himself.  


\-------------------------------  


As the pair strode into the MCU bullpen a short while later, Jim was both humbled and relieved to see how his fellow detectives were working diligently at their allotted tasks, determined to find some – any – clue as to why their favourite consultant had apparently been snatched from under their collective noses. 

Not that that should have surprised him, he thought ruefully to himself. If anyone could make himself indispensible to a workgroup of whatever nature, it just had to be Sandburg, whether or not the young man realised it himself. People simply couldn’t help but warm to the beautiful young empath, unless they were total misanthropes beyond redemption, and his temporary loss would hit the unit hard whether or not it eventually turned out to be a false alarm. 

That being said, Jim’s own reputation had grown by leaps and bounds since his bonding with the young Guide, such that his MCU colleagues at least had few doubts that the Sentinel’s instinct was indeed correct. 

Nevertheless, even as Megan Connor, the Australian exchange officer and firm friend of Blair and Jim both, hurried over to them, an anxious frown on her face and clutching a bundle of files, any exchange was aborted at the frustrated exclamation which burst out from behind them. 

As they turned as one to face the sound, along with H and Rafe who had been pulling up information on their own workstations, Captain Joel Taggart slammed his telephone handset down with a crash, and turned his attention to his colleagues, all of whom were waiting in various stages of curiosity and nervous anticipation for his news. The angry expression on the normally genial man’s dark-skinned face boded ill, and Jim found himself torn between desperately needing to hear what the other man had to tell them and dreading the actual content. 

“Jim, Simon, I’ve just gotten off the phone to Cascade Airport, and I don’t think you’re going to like what I’ve learned. Do you want to take this to your office, Simon? Because I think you’re both going to want to sit down...!” 

Nodding stiffly, face set in an angry frown; Simon put his hand on Jim’s tense shoulder, and gently pushed the other man towards his office. 

“Come on, Joel. Let’s hear it! And don’t worry, people!” addressing the office as a whole. “I’ll fill you all in as soon as I can,” and he shepherded the other two men before him before closing the office door behind them. 

Once seated, Jim turned on Joel, demanding, “Well, come on Joel! Out with it! What do you know?” 

“Just settle down for a second Jim,” said Simon in gentle reproof. “Let the man speak,” and he gestured to Joel to continue. 

“OK, well, as soon as I heard of Jim’s call, I started to check up on transport options, and started with the airport. I pulled up all the flights leaving Cascade within the last few hours, and sure enough, Blair was booked on an internal flight to Taos Regional Airport. Apparently he was travelling with a Mr Adrian Milford, and, according to witnesses, there was no evidence of coercion. 

“Blair was, apparently, very quiet and subdued, and was in his wheelchair, but the other man was quite open – chatty, even, according to the check-in clerk and the other ground staff – telling all and sundry that Blair was his son, and wasn’t feeling too well, especially as he didn’t care for flying. 

“In short, they had no reason to believe that anything out of the ordinary was going on. 

“I’m sorry, Jim, but the flight left on time, and should arrive in Taos within the next couple of hours. Thing is, without something stronger than just your conviction to go on, it’s unlikely that anyone will check up on them when they land – officially, that is...” and he tailed off unhappily, his expression both anxious and sympathetic. 

Erupting out of his chair in fury, Jim snarled, “Of COURSE he was coerced! Couldn’t they see that? I need to see the CCTV footage, Simon! I’ll be able to tell immediately if something’s wrong with Blair..!” and he glared at his Captain, jaw set in frustration. 

“Calm down, Jim! I’m as angry as you are – well, pretty damned close, I dare say, but Joel’s right. We can’t demand the locals intercept passengers just on your say-so, Sentinel and Guide bonds notwithstanding. Look,” he continued more calmly, “Let’s get that footage sent over, and you can watch it--” 

“Already done, Simon,” Joel interjected quietly. “I knew Jim’d want to see it, so I got the link. The airport security guy I spoke to was sympathetic even if he couldn’t do more for us under the circumstances. Let’s check it out,” and he pulled up the relevant footage on Simon’s PC. 

Within moments, the screen was filled with a somewhat blurry recording of passengers approaching the check-in desks, and shortly revealed rear-view shots of a tallish man pushing another in a wheelchair. The wheelchair passenger was slumped down in his seat, lap covered with a plaid rug, and wearing a wide-brimmed hat that completely obscured his hair. As the pair closed on their particular desk, the angle changed, so that both faces could be seen briefly in profile, except that the seated man’s features were all but hidden by the shadow from the hat brim, and a pair of wraparound dark glasses. Added to that, he had his chin sunk on his chest as if deep in thought or asleep, so that, to those with normal vision, it would be well nigh impossible to make a positive identification. 

Not so for the Sentinel, however. Freezing the frame, Jim could make out every detail of his Guide’s beloved face, as well as being able to easily identify the custom-built wheelchair in which he sat. 

Devastated and deeply worried by the total lack of animation in his lover’s face and body, the continuing numbness affecting their link provided him, at least, with solid proof that this was an abduction and not a planned trip. 

“It’s Blair, isn’t it?” said Simon, squeezing Jim’s shoulder and making it a statement rather than a question, even though he himself couldn’t have sworn to it. 

With a deep sigh, Jim responded, “Yeah, Simon. It is. It’s Blair, and he’s not himself. But you’re right, Joel. _I_ know it, but without a medical check, and by a doctor who’s familiar with Sentinel / Guide pairs at that, it can’t be proven. What can we do about it, Captain? Can you pull some strings with your opposite numbers down there in New Mexico? If there were some way to prove it’s a genuine kidnapping, hell, I wouldn’t even complain if the FBI got involved as long as I get Blair back!” 

“I’ll see what I can do, Jim,” replied his friend and captain, “But I can’t promise anything, you understand? 

“Now, I’m going to fill our people in with what we have so far, and I suggest you go back to the loft and try to get some rest, as if I thought that was possible,” he added wryly. 

“Whatever, I think it’s best for you to be at the loft, just in case we have to move out fast, you getting me?” he finished, certain that Jim would know what he meant. 

No way was he about to let his favourite consultant disappear without doing his utmost to prevent it, officially or not. 

Nodding in understanding, Jim turned to go, saying quietly, “Thanks, Simon. I will!” and, offering a sad smile to Joel, strode out of the bullpen looking neither to right nor left, as he was already making plans for his upcoming trip to Taos.  


\-------------------------  


**Part 3: Nothing is Impossible:-**  


**Taos, New Mexico, later that evening:**  


With a tired but contented sigh, Adrian relaxed back in his favourite armchair, sipping at a snifter of expensive cognac, and smugly satisfied at how easily everything had fallen into place thus far. Blair was comfortably ensconced in what was now his own bedroom, sleeping deeply from the effects of the careful doses of sedative Adrian had plied him with during their journey here, and all was right in the would-be father’s world. 

Yes, it was good to be home, which in this instance was a large, Swiss-style chalet in Taos Ski Valley. Although Adrian also owned an apartment in New York, and a villa on the Riviera, this property was the most convenient for his present purposes, and undoubtedly his favourite. 

As skiing was his sport of choice, the impressively-proportioned house was both adjacent to the best runs and also relatively secluded, such that Adrian had no worries that nosy neighbours would come sniffing around without good cause. Likewise, he was satisfied that his social standing was more than high enough with the local Sherriff’s Department and other governing bodies that he would be left undisturbed while he worked at winning over his son to his way of thinking. 

The quasi-European skiing developments were very different from the town, which boasted warm-coloured adobe buildings, and a vibrant artistic community which Naomi had loved so much, along with the charming ethnicity of the Native American Pueblo village. 

Adrian freely admitted that he had no desire whatsoever to involve himself in what he considered to be pointless and whimsical activities, but had feigned an interest in order to draw information out of Naomi during their ill-fated dalliance in Santa Monica. It was useful, after all, for them both to have had some sort of connection with the area, however diverse, insofar as he could use the fact to add an extra touch of authenticity in persuading Blair of the veracity of his claims to kinship. 

Taking another appreciative sip of his drink, Adrian thought back over the last few hours, mentally congratulating himself at the smooth way in which his plans had come to fruition. 

Although he experienced a pang of guilt at having drugged his son, he was firmly convinced that he had had no other option; certain that the unfortunate link with, and proximity of the Sentinel to the young man would have precluded any chance of reasoning with him under normal circumstances. And, having finally found his way clear to approach his much-desired heir, thanks to Blair’s wretched mother’s demise, he had no inclination whatsoever of sharing him with some over-sensitive throwback. 

No, Adrian’s wishes were far more selfish inasmuch as he was cheerfully anticipating persuading his brilliant son to give up his unnatural relationship with said throwback, and encouraging him to find himself a suitable wife in due course, with whom he could produce grandchildren for Adrian, and perpetuate the Milford family line.  


\-----------------------------  


Some hours later, Blair finally rose unwillingly to wakefulness, head throbbing uncomfortably and feeling decidedly groggy. Fighting to keep his heavy-lidded eyes from drifting shut again with no little difficulty, he forced himself to study the unfamiliar surroundings, not having any idea as to how he came to be here, but too tired to worry unduly for the present. Sighing deeply, he carefully monitored his physical condition, even as he somewhat detachedly wondered why his brain felt as if it was working at half-speed. 

He wiggled fingers and toes, and discovered with relief that his crippled leg seemed no worse than usual. In fact, his whole body felt relaxed and comfortable, and he sincerely wished his head would follow suit and stop aching. 

He discovered that he was tucked cosily into what appeared to be some sort of hospital bed, only slightly wider and much more luxurious than the standard models he was well-accustomed to – or, at least, he _thought_ he was? However, when he looked down at himself, he discovered he was wearing warm flannel pyjamas rather than the embarrassing open-backed type of hospital gown he would have expected, which was odd again, because he was fairly sure he never wore pyjamas by choice. 

The room itself was a good size; bright and cheerfully decorated, with a picture window providing a stunning view of snow covered mountain peaks, even though the rest of the visible vegetation suggested that it was still late summer or early Fall. 

A few scattered knickknacks and photos of him in various diverse localities should have given him a sense of familiarity, but instead he felt more confused than ever, with a growing – and frightening – conviction that there must be something very wrong with him, because his brain felt as if it was stuffed with cotton batting, and his memories simply refused to connect in any semblance of order. Not only that, but he felt as if there was someone – or something – else inside his head, demanding attention. It wasn’t a voice, exactly, more a vague presence, but the more he struggled to get his turbulent thoughts into some sort of recognisable sequence, the more the throbbing behind his eyes grew, until his incipient panic threatened to increase the pain to migraine-sized proportions, and he whimpered in distress even as the bedroom door opened to admit a man he couldn’t recall ever having seen before.  


\----------------------------  


Quickly crossing to his son’s side, Adrian sat down in the beside chair and placed a cool hand on Blair’s forehead, murmuring soothing nonsense words as he tried to calm the young man down. However, even though his face and whole demeanour radiated concern and sympathy, inside Adrian was rubbing his hands with glee at this proof of the young man’s confusion, certain that his plan was already showing early signs of success. 

Keeping Blair lightly sedated to ensure his continuing cooperation, Adrian intended to proceed with dosing his son with a psychotropic drug regimen which would dampen his empathic ability and make him much more vulnerable and susceptible to Adrian’s persistent lies and manipulation. By playing on his son’s weaknesses – i.e. his low self-esteem – Adrian intended to both create an alternative reality for the young man, offering care and companionship which Blair would accept with relief and gratitude, making him more dependent on his loving father, and coincidentally breaking the despised connection with the Sentinel, who would no longer be able to continue his lewd and lascivious assaults on Blair’s body and mind. 

Unfortunately for Adrian, like most _mundanes_ he simply failed to understand just how strong – and permanent – a bonded pair’s link actually was, so that his head-games were destined to inflict some serious pain on his son in his ignorance.   


\------------------------  


Long minutes later, Blair relaxed slightly as the pain receded a little, enough so he could open his eyes to study the stranger beside him, who nevertheless seemed very much at ease with both Blair and the surroundings. Coughing slightly to clear a throat which felt dry and raspy, Blair managed to croak out, “Who are you? Where am I?” 

“Hush now, Blair, it’s OK, son. You’ve been very ill, my boy, but don’t you worry. Your old Dad’ll take care of you. We’ll have you better in no time!” 

Deliberately ignoring the perplexed and frightened expression that his words had conjured up on Blair’s face, he smiled again, saying, “Don’t you worry now, kiddo. You just drink your tea, and get some more sleep. Things will seem much better in the morning, you’ll see! 

“We’ll talk some more later, now you’re on the mend,” and he carefully supported Blair’s head so that the young man could sip the tea he had brought with him, which was not only his favourite blend and very soothing to his dry throat, but was also topping up the levels of the drugs in his weakened system, so that his eyes closed almost in mid-swallow and he sank back down into a narcotic-induced almost-coma. 

With a satisfied smirk, Adrian tucked the blankets around the slender figure, and retreated to the kitchen to wash out the tea cup, and measure out the next dose.  


\-------------------------  


When Blair woke next, he felt both physically stronger, but mentally more fuzzy and confused than ever. Realising he needed the bathroom and pretty urgently, he began to haul himself somewhat painfully up in the bed, studying the two doors he could see, and wondering which, if any, led to the appropriate facilities. 

As if on cue, the door nearest the bed head opened to reveal the same man he seemed to recall from before, who was carrying a tray of food and smiling cheerfully at him. 

“Hey, son! Good to see you awake again at last! I’m thinking you could probably do with a trip to the bathroom, eh?” 

Setting the tray down on the nightstand, he stooped to pick up a walking stick from beside the bed that Blair hadn’t noticed before, and, wrapping a supportive arm around the smaller man’s waist, he eased him gently to his feet, supporting him while the room dipped and swayed for a moment as Blair regained his balance. Maintaining a strong and steadying grip, Adrian helped Blair to shuffle towards the second door, which sure enough opened to reveal a luxurious en suite shower room, fully kitted out with the necessary fixtures and fittings suitable for a partially disabled person. 

“There you go, son. Do you need any help, or can you manage by yourself now? You’ll find everything in its usual place,” he continued breezily, maintaining the pretence that Blair was in what should have been familiar surroundings. 

Too concerned with relieving his protesting bladder to consider the bizarre situation overmuch at present, Blair smiled shyly and murmured, “Um, no thanks...er...sir. I can manage,” unable as yet to call this stranger ‘Dad’ and hoping that he hadn’t caused offence at the omission. 

In truth, as the door closed behind Blair, Adrian was far from offended, figuring that the upcoming conversation would go a long way towards convincing Blair of the nature of his ‘illness’, and consequent acceptance of the fact that his place was here with the parent who could care for him. 

In the bathroom, Blair sighed in bliss as he relieved his bladder, and shuffled to the hand basin to wash his hands and splash some cold water on his face. Looking at the gaunt and beard-stubbled vision gazing unhappily back at him from the bathroom mirror, he glanced longingly at the shower, but reluctantly decided he felt too shaky at the moment to indulge in the luxury of a refreshing soak. 

Besides, the man – (‘Dad’?) - was waiting for him to come out and eat, so he turned and hobbled back into the bedroom, to see Adrian sitting patiently beside the bed, smiling in welcome. 

“Better now? I’m sure you could do with a shower and shave also, but that can wait until you’ve got some food inside you! You won’t feel so shaky then, I dare say, although I’m happy to give you a hand if you need. 

“I’ll leave you in peace to eat your dinner, and then, if you feel up to it, you can get cleaned up and dressed and we can have an hour or two chatting in the den. I suspect you have a few questions you’d like to ask me,” he finished with a wry grin. 

Helping Blair back into bed, but with the backrest raised enough for him to eat from the tray placed on the over-the-bed table, he didn’t seem to expect any response from the confused young man, and, patting him amicably on the shoulder, he left the room. 

Blair stared at his departing back, a bemused expression on his face, before turning his attention to the delicious-smelling soup and crusty bread in front of him, and, suddenly realising he was famished, fell upon the meal with gusto, finishing it all, along with another cup of tea, in record time. 

Feeling somewhat energised, in accordance with Adrian’s schemes, did he but know it, Blair took himself back to the bathroom, and, utilising the fold-down seat fitted in the shower cubicle, managed to get himself cleaned up and shaved. Dressing in the clean underwear and comfortable suit of sweats he found folded up and waiting for him on the bed, and slipping his feet into a pair of sheepskin slippers he saw tucked beneath them – which fitted perfectly, as indeed did the sweats, - he gathered up his resolve and approached the door. 

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he turned the handle, and peered out, to see a short, but bright and airy landing area which led directly to a wide, sweeping staircase which in turn ended in a lofty, wood-floored hall from which several doors led off to different parts of the house. 

The decor was expensive-rustic, in keeping with chalet-style properties, and everywhere appeared to benefit from large windows from which more stunning scenery could be viewed. Nevertheless, nothing Blair had seen thus far rang any bells for him, and the unrelenting unfamiliarity caused his stomach to clench in visceral dread. 

However, before he could change his mind and retreat to his bedroom, Adrian’s voice called up to him, even as he heard the other man approaching the stairs from across the hallway. 

“Come on down, my boy! I’ve got some fresh tea waiting for you in the den!” 

Striding up the staircase and along the landing, Adrian grasped Blair’s upper arm in a firm but unthreatening grip, and he urged the reluctant young man to accompany him to his den, chatting inconsequentially as they went, and giving Blair no opportunity to escape. On reaching their destination, Adrian settled Blair in a comfortable overstuffed armchair, and sat down opposite in a similar seat, beaming all over his face. 

“It’s so good to see you up and about again, son! I know it’s been tough, but now you’re home with me, everything’s going to be all right. Now, can I pour you some tea, or would you like to talk first?” 

“Um, I think I need to talk, please,” replied Blair, voice and demeanour more tentative and uncertain than for many months past, nervous hands rubbing his thighs in unconscious activity. 

“Certainly, son! Where do you want to begin? With the nature of your illness, perhaps?” 

At Blair’s quick nod, he sat back with a reassuring smile, before leaning forward again to squeeze Blair’s knee. 

“Well, son, I have to tell you that you’ve suffered from a serious nervous breakdown, no doubt brought on by a combination of stress and overwork. As soon as I heard, I arranged to bring you home with me to take care of you, because there was no way any son of mine was going into some psych ward, and you’ve been here ever since. 

“However, I think it would be beneficial for you to see if you can recall any early memories without my prompting, so you can begin to understand why the breakdown occurred, OK? 

“What do you remember about your childhood, Blair, because sad to say I wasn’t around to have a hand in your upbringing, owing to the promise I made to your mother...” and he tailed off, eyebrow raised quizzically as he held Blair’s reluctant and disbelieving gaze. 

Biting his lip in anxiety, especially as he couldn’t seem to ‘read’ the other man, his empathy apparently muted for some reason, Blair paused for long moments before speaking. Eventually, however, encouraged by the open support in Adrian’s inquisitive gaze, Blair marshalled his fractured thoughts and memories as best he could, and began. 

Having started, he found himself compelled to continue, struggling to describe his early childhood, travelling the world with his nomadic hippy Mom, and nurturing a life-long interest in anthropology on the way. He described places of interest, people and cultures, and his studies at Rainier up until his accident, at which point he lapsed into silence while he recalled the traumatic aftermath, and Naomi’s unexpected care and support during his recovery. 

While Adrian made the appropriate comments and assumed an expression of sympathy which wasn’t entirely genuine, Blair swallowed hard as he haltingly continued his narrative. 

Swallowing around the lump of emotion in his throat which threatened to choke his words, Blair told of the assault on Naomi, and her subsequent life confined in a hospice, thanks to the severity of her injuries, which resulted in his changing the course of his studies to become a forensic profiler. 

Although he didn’t expand on his career since making that decision, he brightened slightly when he described how he had finally found his Holy Grail – a compatible Sentinel – only to sink into despondency again as he recalled Naomi’s death. 

From that point, his memory seemed to grow fuzzier still, and he tailed off, frowning in frustration and worry. 

“I..I’m sorry, sir. I can’t seem to remember anything else. But there must be so much more, mustn’t there? I mean, it seems like ages since Mom died...” and he stared fixedly at the floor, as if the pattern on the luxurious rug beneath his feet held the secrets of his missing memories. 

Forcing himself not to leap up and shout out in his delight at what he had heard so far, Adrian controlled his expression to one of profound sympathy and understanding before addressing the despondent figure before him. 

“Ah, Blair, my boy! Thank you for talking so freely about your memories. It’s true that much of what you remember has a direct effect on your breakdown, but I’m sorry to say that there is a lot more to it than that. For your own good I feel I should explain everything to you, if you’re up to hearing it?” and he allowed a hopeful look to colour his direct gaze. 

With a sigh, Blair gave a slight nod, knowing instinctively that he didn’t want to hear what this man was going to tell him, but certain that he needed to understand if he was to get well again. 

Choosing his words carefully, Adrian commenced his carefully constructed alternate reality; sure that constant repetition would eventually convince Blair of his sincerity.  


\------------------------------  


Assured of Blair’s rapt attention, Adrian began by describing how he and Naomi met at a music festival, and had a brief but passionate affair. He explained how, much against his better judgement, he agreed not to pursue a relationship with her at her request, and didn’t find out until some while later that she had had his child. Assuming a hurt expression, he described how he had lost touch with the pair, eventually meeting Naomi again purely by chance a few years back, and able only then to catch up on Blair’s progress. 

Professing a wholly fraudulent mutual regard, he claimed that he had promised Naomi that, should anything befall her, he would take care of their son, and bring him home to Taos, a location they both loved for different reasons. Chuckling fondly, he wove a tale of how Naomi had loved the artistic set, while he stuck to his skiing, just as now, and he was gratified to see a small smile on Blair’s face as he undoubtedly remembered occasional visits with his Mom. 

Since there was more than a kernel of truth at the centre of his tale thus far, he could tell that Blair seemed to be convinced of his honesty, but now he was about to dash the young man’s most dearly-held beliefs, so he knew that this was going to have to be even more compelling. 

“So I’m sure you must understand why we didn’t see more of each other while you were growing up, son. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, I assure you! But I had to bow to Naomi’s wishes. I can’t tell you how worried I was about you when I heard of your accident, but Naomi insisted on looking after you herself, so I comforted myself that you were in good hands. 

“But oh, the shock of her assault! I know how it must have hurt you, dear boy, because I know how upset I was! 

“But I was so proud of how you got her into that care facility, Blair, and how hard you worked to get qualified as a profiler and teacher so you could support her! It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help, son, believe me. I just knew that Naomi wouldn’t have wanted it, however hard it was for me to keep my distance! 

“But don’t you see, son? So many years of selfless struggle, working every hour you could to earn enough to pay her care bills! And then to be rejected out of hand by your Sentinel after her death! It was too much!” and he put everything he had into projecting his sorrow and disappointment on Blair’s behalf. 

The shock and reaction from Blair was instant and vehement. 

“No! No! You’re wrong! My Sentinel wouldn’t reject me! It’s not true! It _can’t_ be true!” and he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, wishing with all his heart that he could run again, so he could escape from this man and his lies. 

Expecting just such a response, Adrian was up out of his chair at the same instant, gripping Blair’s upper arms and forcing the young man to meet his understanding and compelling gaze. 

“I’m so sorry, Blair, but it’s true, every word! He couldn’t stand to work with a crippled partner, and so he just took everything he needed and pushed you away! Come on, son, think! Remember! You know it’s true!” 

And Blair _did_ remember. 

At Adrian’s prompting, fragments of memories flashed uninvited into his consciousness. 

Jim belittling him in the bullpen in front of their colleagues. 

Jim talking over him in frustration at meetings and discussions in Simon’s office. 

Jim telling him that he worked alone, and that he didn’t want or need a Guide. 

It was true. He had failed his Sentinel, and his Sentinel had discarded him. 

Dropping down into his seat again as his legs gave out from under him; he barely registered the cup of tea pushed into his shaking hand. Gulping down the lukewarm liquid automatically, he remained staring at the floor in a state of shock even as Adrian moved away to replace the cup on the tea tray, his evil and self-satisfied smirk unseen as he turned his back on the huddled figure trembling in his chair. 

Alone again and locked within his dark thoughts, Blair cried.   


\-------------------------------  


**The loft, earlier the same day:**  


Clutching an empty coffee mug in his hand, Simon Banks stared worriedly at his friend, wishing he could see the man’s face so that he could get some idea of what the Sentinel was thinking. Jim stood with his back turned, staring out over his city, arms tightly folded across his chest and jaw muscle jumping in tension as he gritted his teeth in anger and frustration. 

Simon had arrived an hour or so ago with the intention of bringing his friend up to date with the paltry amount of progress made so far in the attempt to expedite the return of their consultant profiler. Accepting a much-appreciated cup of coffee, Simon had begun by explaining the legal, if morally unacceptable position, at least in the eyes of the MCU and PD in general. 

Because Milford had been open and above-board in his rental of the house in Cascade, and in his booking of the airline tickets in his and Blair’s names, there was no apparent reason to suspect that anything untoward was taking place. No one witnessed any abduction attempt, although the fingerprints on the VW were confirmed as Milford’s (and Simon wasn’t prepared to divulge exactly how he had ascertained that snippet of information even if Jim might have had a fair idea). 

The flight had passed without problems as far as the flight attendants could tell, although they did confirm that Dr Sandburg remained quiet and docile throughout, and once on the ground, Milford and Blair had travelled on to Milford’s property in Taos Ski Valley. 

Neither man had been seen since, but there was no reason for the local police to believe that anything was wrong, or likely to justify checking up on them, especially since Milford was a man of some standing in the community, and Simon got the strong impression that none of the locals cared to rock the boat and upset one of their most valued benefactors without due cause. 

As for the FBI, although they professed to some anxiety as to the whereabouts and condition of their popular young profiler, their hands were also tied unless concrete proof came to light to give them reason to investigate more aggressively, and that certainly did not include the intangible evidence of an alleged disruption in a Sentinel / Guide empathic link. 

Knowing that Jim was virtually guaranteed to go in search of his Guide whatever Simon may or may not advise, the Captain decided to at least pull every bit of information he could about Milford, so that at least his friend would have something to work with on his arrival in Taos. 

“OK, Jim. This is what we know about Milford, and admittedly a lot of it is gleaned from the society columns and the like. 

“Apparently the guy inherited a pretty fair fortune from his parents when they were killed in a light airplane crash. He was just a kid at the time, attending college at Yale, no less, but once he graduated – cum laude, I might add - he followed the advice of a family friend and financial adviser, and invested the bulk of his capital. By all accounts, he has been phenomenally successful at working the stock markets, and has lived a life of luxury ever since, with properties in Europe as well as Taos and New York. 

“His favourite sport is skiing – go figure! – and he’s a popular figure in social circles wherever he stays, although there’s been more than a few unsubstantiated rumours that he is prone to prey on wealthy and gullible widows. However, none of the ladies in question have come forward with complaints, so either he frightens them into silence, or they’ve given him their money freely. Whatever the case, it seems to have supplemented his income very nicely on occasion, thank you very much! 

“As to his claim about being Blair’s father, well, your guess is as good as mine on that count, and the one person who could have thrown some light on the subject is now dead. The possibility of using DNA evidence is out of the question at this time, because there is no legal justification for testing, although that may become possible down the line. 

“So, there you have it. Not much to go on, my friend, but I already know you’re not going to let me persuade you to abandon your decision to go after Blair on your own. I just want to know when you’re going, and as much as you’re willing to divulge about what you intend to do when you get there. I may not be able to assist in an official capacity, Jim, but I’ll do whatever I can to help if you need it.” 

Having waited so long for a response that Simon began to fear that the Sentinel had zoned on him, and wondered if he should try to do something about it, he was relieved when Jim finally turned to face him, his expression cold and hard, even though his voice was low and not unfriendly. 

“Thanks, Simon. I appreciate your bringing me up to speed, and I do understand that your hands are tied to a great extent, even if it sucks, as Blair would say,” and he smiled sadly before adding, “You’re right. I’ve already booked my flight to Taos, and I’ll be leaving the loft in the next hour or so. As I’m still officially a detective, at least for the next few days, I hope there won’t be a problem with me taking my service weapon with me?” 

At Simon’s nod of assent, he continued. 

“I intend to check in with the local Sheriff’s department, but I’m not expecting much help from that quarter. Just want them to be aware that I’m around. After that, I’ll use whatever means I have at my disposal to confront Milford. 

“Whatever happens, Simon, I won’t be coming back without Blair!” 

Nodding in understanding, his face reflecting his deep concern on both his friends’ behalf, Simon stood up, and placing his empty mug on the kitchen counter, strode over to where Jim stood, looking every inch like the tribal guardian he was. Placing a large hand on Jim’s shoulder, Simon squeezed firmly in support, eyes telegraphing his compassion, before turning away and making his way quickly to the door, where he let himself out and hurried down to his car. 

As he drove away, too overwhelmed to linger any longer, he couldn’t help but shudder at the almost primeval sensation of dread that suddenly swept over him and fuelled his fear that this could possibly be the last time he ever saw either Jim or Blair in this lifetime.  


\------------------------------  


A few hours later saw Jim checking into a reasonably priced motel, conveniently situated within easy reach of both the old town and Taos Ski Valley. He had hired a mid-size SUV for the week, figuring that if he hadn’t rescued Blair by then, he probably wasn’t going to, although that alternative was unthinkable. 

The link between them remained muffled and indistinct however much he tried to force a contact with his beloved Guide, but the fact that it still existed gave him hope that it wouldn’t be too long before he saw Blair again. Likewise, his troubled senses had improved drastically at the increased proximity to his Guide, fuelling his conviction that, whatever was presently afflicting Blair, it could be fixed by their reunion and subsequent bonding. 

However, just as he was unpacking his few clothes and toiletries prior to heading down to the Sheriff’s office, he was suddenly struck by a blinding pain like a bolt of lightning behind his eyes, making him grasp his temples and groan aloud. Although he couldn’t know it, it was the exact moment when Blair had reacted in such profound shock at his father’s cruel declaration that his Sentinel had abandoned him. 

Thankfully, however, the pain ceased abruptly, just as Jim neared the point of collapse. Heaving a huge sigh of relief, he rubbed his hands over his face, before frowning in anxiety, as he was convinced that the jolt of agony had something to do with Blair. Urgently searching for the impaired link between them, he blew out another gusty breath as he located it again, only to frown even harder at the worsening condition of the empathic bond, which suggested to him that Blair was growing progressively weaker and more damaged. 

Desperate to take some sort of action and almost growling in frustration, he grabbed the keys to the hire car, and exited his room, determined to glean whatever information he could from the local lawmen.  


\----------------------------  


A short while later, having easily located the office, Jim was inside and introducing himself to a narrow-eyed, middle-aged deputy, whose badge stated that his name was ‘Wiseman’. Glowering at Jim with barely-disguised hostility, the man reluctantly knocked on the office door behind him to announce the arrival of the Cascade detective to the occupant, one Sheriff Luis Mendoza. 

In direct contrast to his deputy’s surly antagonism, a deep but friendly voice came from within, calling, “Come on in here, Detective Ellison! I’ve just been on the line to your Captain Banks. Let’s see if we can’t do anything to help clear up this situation...!” 

With another glare, Deputy Wiseman released the lock on the counter to admit Jim to the sheriff’s domain, which he wasted no time in doing, having neither the interest nor inclination to respond to the other man’s thinly-veiled aggression. 

As Jim entered the inner office, the sheriff rose to his feet behind the cluttered desk and held out his hand in greeting. As his name suggested, he was Hispanic, but with a lot of Native American blood, and Jim’s first impression was more than satisfactory. 

Mendoza was a big man, not fat, but powerfully built and about the same height as Jim himself. His handshake was firm, and his gaze shrewd but amicable, although Jim instinctively knew that this was a man to take very seriously. His broad features reminded Jim strongly of Dan Wolf, Cascade PD’s resident ME, and Mendoza’s dark eyes twinkled with the same intelligence and wry humour, but unlike Dan, he wore his thick black hair cut short. 

“Take a load off, Detective Ellison,” he said, indicating the chair in front of his desk. “You want coffee? Though got to say it’s not the best!” 

With a grin, Jim responded in kind, saying, “It can’t be worse than our breakroom sludge, so yeah, please. I’ll risk it. I figure I need the caffeine kick if nothing else.” 

With an understanding nod, Mendoza poured out two mugs from the pot sitting on the small hotplate behind him, and, after offering sugar and creamer, settled down and regarded Jim speculatively over the rim of his mug. 

“Reckon I should begin by telling you what I believe I’ve learned about your reason for being here, Detective...” 

“Jim. Call me Jim,” Ellison interjected quietly. 

With a nod of appreciation, Mendoza continued. 

“OK, Jim. Well, having spoken to your Captain Banks, I have to say that officially I have to agree with him that there’s not much to go on. And Adrian Milford’s got some clout in this town, like it or not!” 

“Now,” he pushed on, holding up his hand as Jim seemed poised to interrupt, “That’s not to say that he’s necessarily whiter than white as far as I’m concerned, but he’s done nothing illegal thus far – nothing proven, anyway - and he has plenty of ‘best buddies’ in the town’s administrative and social circles to provide character references, sad to say. 

“However, Captain Banks has told me of your connection with young Dr Sandburg. I know you’re Sentinel and Guide, and I, for one, believe your claim that he’s been taken against his will. 

“I’m well acquainted with a Sentinel / Guide pair up in the Native American Pueblo village, and, as you can see, I’ve got enough of my mother’s ancestors’ blood in me to understand where you’re coming from. If you say your bond’s been compromised, I believe you. I also know what will happen to you if he dies, Jim,” he finished softly, eyes reflecting his sympathy and concern. 

“So, even if I can’t go in all guns blazing, I’m not going to stand in your way if you want to do a little private investigation of your own as long as it’s above board, and none of my people get hurt. 

“And if and when you do come up with something we can use, I’ll back you all the way. Can’t say fairer than that. Do you agree?” 

With no little relief, Jim nodded in appreciation, and met Mendoza’s assessing gaze with a direct one of his own. 

“Thanks, Sheriff. To be honest, it’s more than I expected. I do understand that you can’t do any more right now, but it’s a relief to know that you believe me, and won’t try to stop me. Because I will get Blair back! There’s no other way!” 

After a moment’s pause, Mendoza nodded briskly. 

“Right then. Bit more information for you. Milford doesn’t come into town much, because he likes his seclusion, and prefers skiing to anything the town has to offer, unless he’s out to dinner with some of his cronies at the country club. 

“He does have a regular visitor at the lodge, though; someone who goes up there at least every other week. Name’s Whitmore. David J Whitmore, MD. Has a thriving private practice in a real nice area of the town. I understand that they’ve been best buds since college, and it was Milford who encouraged the good doctor to open up his practice here shortly after Milford bought his house. They’re both single, but double date occasionally with a couple of the town’s more eligible widows, but nothing untoward. Always go to the same fancy Italian restaurant, the _‘Casa d’Olio’._

“Other than that, I have nothing else of any use, so I’ll wish you good night, and good hunting, Sentinel” and he stood to usher Jim from the office. 

With sincere thanks, Jim took his leave, and left the office, although he was uncomfortably aware of the deputy’s suspicious gaze following him even as he drove away.  


\------------------------------  


Night was already falling by the time Jim left the Sheriff’s office, but he knew for sure that he couldn’t rest until he’d done more towards locating his suffering Guide. 

Returning to the motel, he used the free Wi-Fi connection to do some local surfing on Blair’s laptop, which he had had the forethought to bring with him. Tracking down Whitmore’s practice, he was gratified to learn that the good doctor lived on the premises, since it was, apparently, in a very good neighbourhood. 

He also did a little research on Milford, discovering that he was, unsurprisingly, a fully paid up member of the country club, and also the premier ski club in Taos Ski Valley. 

A little more sleuthing around the social websites determined that the man usually spent Spring and the early part of the summer in Europe, soaking up the sun on the Riviera, and the latter part in New York, undoubtedly enjoying the social scene as well as checking up on his investments on Wall Street. 

Come the Fall, and the incipient snowfall, he returned to Taos where he could enjoy his favourite sport for as long as the ski slopes remained usable. 

However, this year, as Jim already knew, he had changed his routine and spent several months in Cascade in his rented property, undoubtedly using the time to stalk his ‘son’ and lay his plans for kidnapping Blair. 

Logging off, Jim determinedly pushed any thoughts of rest aside, and decided that a stake-out of the doctor’s premises was in order in the off-chance that it might yield some useful information, as it was highly unlikely that he would be able to sleep anyway, and he needed to feel that he was doing everything he could to rescue his beloved. 

Knowing he needed to eat, he grabbed a greasy offering from a drive-thru burger bar en route, and in no time he was parked around the corner from Whitmore’s impressive practice, and doing his best to avoid suspicion as he hunkered down in his seat, opening his hearing in a bid to eavesdrop on the doctor. 

He could hardly believe his luck when he heard the telephone ring, although the ensuing conversation between Whitmore and Milford both horrified him and filled him with the unholy desire to rip the pair of them limb from limb.  


\-------------------------  


Unfortunately for Jim, while he had been doing his internet searching, Deputy Wiseman had been making a few calls of his own. 

As a canny businessman and consummate conman, Adrian Milford was well-versed in maintaining an outward façade of propriety, whilst cultivating useful connections on every level, even those nefarious in character. One could never have too many informers, whether in financial and political circles, or local law enforcement, and Milford had easily wooed the perpetually broke Deputy Wiseman into his service on the promise of regular substantial payments for services rendered. 

Consequently, the man was only too ready to inform his benefactor of Jim’s presence in Taos, and divulge the snippets of information he had been able to overhear of his conversation with the Sheriff. 

Controlling his rage with a concentrated effort, because he knew only too well what mistakes could arise from rash retaliation, Milford mentally counted to twenty before giving his informant any further instructions. 

“Thank you for your information, Wiseman. I appreciate your vigilance. Now, I want you to arrange something for me, and you know I’ll make it worth your while...” and he paused suggestively until, as expected, his man took the bait and agreed willingly to do whatever he proposed. 

“Detective Ellison could prove to be a considerable nuisance to me, so I’d prefer him to be gone as soon as possible. Now I know that you have contacts of your own in town, so I’d like for you to arrange for a little accident of the permanent variety, you understand? 

“I don’t care how you manage it, but it’s not to reflect back on me, OK? Carry out my instructions, and I can guarantee you won’t be sorry!” 

Receiving Wiseman’s sincere and very eager compliance, he terminated the call, somewhat relieved, but knowing he wouldn’t rest until Jim Ellison was dead.  


\------------------------  


A couple of calls later, armed with a combination of threats and promises, Wiseman had set up his little ‘incident’, and was now looking forward to the results with eager anticipation.  


\-------------------------  


Meanwhile, back at the chalet, Milford was growing more and more perturbed at the disturbing responses he was witnessing in his son. 

Initially more than satisfied with Blair’s extreme reaction to his assertion regarding the fictitious ‘broken’ bond, he had fully expected to have to sedate the young man in the aftermath, in order to control him physically and give him a little down-time before continuing with the gentle but persistent brain-washing. However, Blair had continued to exhibit symptoms of real pain, far different from any of his previous victims – and particularly the women he had chosen to seduce – so despite his ingrained unwillingness, he began to suspect that there may well be more to the much-vaunted Sentinel / Guide connection than he had realised. 

Torn between anger at what he chose to perceive as Blair’s obstinacy, and the niggling worry that, left unattended, the devastated young man may even contemplate ending his own life, Adrian determined to end the conflict once and for all by destroying Ellison, and by consulting his long-time friend and supplier as to the best regimen of drugs to administer to Blair in order to stabilise his condition in the aftermath. 

Unfortunately, he still didn’t either understand or even consider the real effects of a bond broken by the death of one partner, and thus in his ignorance was actually pursuing a double homicide. 

Returning to Blair’s room to check on the young man’s condition, Adrian frowned anew at what he saw. Despite being completely unable to move his limbs, lax and limp from the last dose of drugs in the tea, Blair was far from being peacefully unconscious. Although his thoughts remained indistinct and fleeting, clouded and distorted by drug-induced confusion, the persistent other ‘presence’ in his head refused to leave him alone, and he whimpered in distress as it grew gradually in strength and power, breaking through into his tortured consciousness as if demolishing a high, strong, protective wall brick by brick. 

Snarling in frustration, Milford pulled out his cell phone, and despite the lateness of the hour, speed-dialled the one man who he believed could shed some light on his problem, and provide the remedy. 

When Dr Whitmore answered on the second ring, Milford didn’t waste time on pleasantries. 

“Dave! I’ve got a problem. Blair’s not responding as I expected, and it’s worrying me. I’ve got him physically sedated, because he got really upset at what I told him about his partner dumping him, but no more than I’d have expected, knowing how deeply that throwback had his claws into my boy. 

“But when I gave him the other drug combination, not only did he not calm down, but he’s getting progressively more and more distressed. It’s like he’s having a nightmare he can’t wake up from combined with the headache from hell. What do you suggest? He can’t go on like this indefinitely, and let’s face it, none of those stupid bitches I’ve used the same stuff on in the past reacted like this. They just got dopey and cooperative without remembering anything afterwards. What can I do? This isn’t working out like I thought!” 

Even as Jim ground his teeth in fury at what he was overhearing from where he was stationed outside the doctor’s premises, Whitmore replied, “OK, Mil, calm down for a moment. Let me think. 

“You say you used the usual combination of sedatives and psychotropics? And Blair is physically inert, but conscious on some level?” 

At Milford’s confirmation, he continued, “Hell, Mil! I hope I’m wrong, but I think it’s down to the empathic link he shares with Ellison. I know you don’t want to believe it, but these things do exist, and by all accounts are far more powerful than we _mundanes_ give them credit for. I’ve read that trying to forcibly break such a bond can cause great harm to both partners, but I’d hoped that mind-altering drugs could have done the trick without damaging Blair too much, whatever the effect on Ellison! 

“But now I’m not so sure. Perhaps it really is true that the bond’s for life. 

“Look, tell you what, I’ll come on over to your place now. See if we can’t come up with some other combination to at least calm him down for now. See you in a few,” and at Milford’s grateful assent, he put the phone down. 

From his spot around the corner Jim could easily hear the rustling sounds of him getting out of bed and pulling on his clothes, and he fully intended to follow the man up to Milford’s place. 

After what he’d heard, there was no way in hell he could leave Blair in that man’s hands any longer.  


\---------------------------------  


In a very short time, Jim heard Whitmore leave his house and enter the double garage, throwing his medical bag onto the back seat and reversing quickly but quietly out in preparation for the drive to Taos Ski Valley and Milford’s property. 

Starting up the rental, Jim prepared to follow, but determined to give the man a reasonable start as the traffic was light at that time of night, and he didn’t want the doctor to pick up his ‘tail’. 

As Whitmore pulled out of his driveway and turned towards the main street, Jim was suddenly stopped in his tracks by a patrol car pulling out of the side road opposite and coming to a halt across his path. Growling in frustration, Jim wound down the driver’s side window and stared at the shadowy figure that climbed out of the cruiser, hand hovering nervously over his sidearm as he approached Jim’s car. Assuming that the Deputy had been called in response to someone in the neighbourhood reporting a suspicious car loitering in the area, Jim was prepared to show his ID and credentials, even though he suspected that he would probably have to wait for longer than he wanted while he was cleared with the Sheriff. 

However, despite the poor visibility in the street, and the hat brim pulled down firmly over the other’s brow, the Sentinel could easily see that it was Deputy Wiseman approaching, and he was looking every bit as hostile as when Jim first saw him at the office. 

“Step out of the car, sir, and keep your hands where I can see them!” came the order. 

Gut instinct telling him that something was very wrong, Jim had no option but to obey, senses on high alert as he carefully slid out of the SUV, hands held unthreateningly away from his sides. 

Deliberately stating the obvious to give himself some breathing space, Jim said calmly, “Deputy Wiseman. My name’s Ellison, Detective Jim Ellison from Cascade PD. We met earlier at the Sheriff’s office. I spoke at length with Sheriff Mendoza, and I’m sure he can vouch for me. If you’ll just give him a call--” 

And that’s as far as he got before Wiseman pulled his weapon, and barked out, “Hold it right there, Ellison!” even as his eyes shifted slightly to glance quickly beyond Jim and down the street behind them. 

Sentinel senses easily picked up on the two figures approaching stealthily from behind Jim, and he tensed, ready to swing into action at the first hint of attack. Shifting slightly to the side so he could see all three potential attackers, Jim swiftly catalogued the two newcomers. 

Scruffily dressed, and with battered baseball caps pulled low in a futile attempt to disguise their features, one carried a wicked-looking knife while the other grasped a length of pipe in grimy hands. One Hispanic and one Caucasian, they both wore identical scowls on hungry-looking faces, mean and shifty eyes flicking between Wiseman and their intended prey. 

Weighing up the situation rapidly, Jim was pretty certain that the Deputy would keep out of the action if possible, certain that his cronies could do the job for him, and either cripple or even kill the visiting officer before he could make waves. 

What none of the attackers realised though was that they were not only dealing with a covert ops-trained ex-Army Ranger, but also a Sentinel in Blessed Protector mode, and about to go primal at the first opportunity. Even as the two moved in, Jim sprang into action, quickly disarming the pipe-wielding guy with an accurate roundhouse kick, while almost simultaneously placing the knifeman between him and Wiseman, blocking the Deputy’s shot should he decide to pull the trigger after all. 

After a flurry of blows that neither man had any chance of deflecting, pipe-man was on the ground moaning and clutching his genitals while knifeman screamed in pain as the feral Sentinel twisted his arm ruthlessly, the blade dropping from nerveless fingers as his arm shattered at the elbow. 

Face registering his total shock at the ferocity of Jim’s attack, Wiseman backed up, fully intending to make a break for it, when he was brought down by the furious Ellison, who was onto him with the swiftness of his animal spirit, and moving with the panther’s grace and deadly intent. 

Within minutes it was over, and all three attackers were on the ground and cuffed, ready to be picked up and charged. Although it had taken nearly all his considerable will-power not to give in to his animal instincts, Jim had managed to back off from slaughtering the three indiscriminately, but only because he needed to rescue and protect his Guide, and he wanted no potential murder charges to hinder him. 

Nevertheless he had no intention of being detained unnecessarily when his every instinct told him he needed to get to Blair, and now, so he quickly called in the attack to the Sheriff’s office, trusting that he wasn’t mistaken in his belief that Mendoza meant what he said about understanding Jim’s urgent need to reconnect with his beloved Guide. 

Jumping into the SUV, and quickly backing up to circumvent the abandoned patrol car, Jim sped away in the direction he knew Whitmore had taken, determined to confront Milford and take back his lover at all costs.  


\-----------------------------  


Unaware of the pursuit, but concerned for the situation up at his friend’s house, which could very possibly backfire on them both, Dave Whitmore wracked his not inconsiderable brain for some answer to their mutual problem. Considering and discarding different options as they occurred to him, Whitmore drove almost on autopilot, knowing the route to the chalet like the back of his hand. It never occurred to him, however, not to help his friend, having known and trusted Adrian Milford for many years now, almost from their first meeting in the dorms at Yale. 

Whilst Whitmore had been a bright student, dedicated to his medical studies, he was also somewhat shy and gawky as a teen, and easily impressed by his handsome and popular roommate, Milford. Falling in lust with the other young man, Dave knew he had to keep his thoughts to himself as it was blatantly obvious that Milford was as straight as an arrow, but it didn’t mean that he had any intention of letting the friendship slide after they graduated from their particular courses and went their own ways in the world. 

In payment for Adrian’s help and advice in the financial field; because from the outset, the young man seemed to have a magic touch when it came to making money; Dave willingly supplied his friend with the drugs he demanded on occasion, whether pharmaceutical or recreational, even knowing what Milford used them for, and ruthlessly stomping on his conscience in the name of his abiding love for the man. So fond was he of his friend that, at Adrian’s suggestion, he had willingly upped sticks and left his medical practice in Boston to set up in Taos, wanting to be available to Milford for as many months of the year as possible. He was even willing to maintain the pretence of heterosexuality in their occasional double dates, sure that Milford had never caught on to his real feelings, not for one moment realising that the object of his desire had, in fact, recognised them almost immediately. 

However, far from being infuriated, Milford simply used the knowledge to bind the other man to him, coldly and cynically manipulating Whitmore and keeping him dangling for as long as he remained useful, which he had indeed proved to be thus far. 

As he slowly negotiated the final stretch of winding road that led up to the chalet’s electronically controlled gates, Whitmore had no reason to suspect that he had been followed, especially since the car now tailing him was being driven without lights, its Sentinel driver needing only the fitful moonlight and the sight of Whitmore’s tail lights to guide him.  


\----------------------  


Despite the inevitable delay from the attempted assault, Jim had quickly made up the distance between him and Whitmore, driving as fast as possible, and thankful that not only did he have a fair idea of the route, but also that there was little traffic around at that time. Nevertheless, he was relieved when he actually saw Whitmore’s tail lights far ahead, and shortly after, he switched off his headlights as the other vehicle began to climb the narrow approach road to the chalet. 

Pulling in at some distance from the entrance, Jim stretched out with his vision to make out the code Whitmore was now keying in to open the gates. 

Although it was no easy feat in the poor light even for a Sentinel, Jim had no worries about zoning at that point, because he could already ‘feel’ his Guide, dampened empathic link notwithstanding, and it was all he could do to hold back for a short while longer before bursting into the building and freeing his beloved from the evil man’s clutches. 

Even as Adrian was greeting his visitor, and hurrying the man inside to see for himself how Blair’s condition was deteriorating, Jim was slowly approaching the main gate, maintaining his coldly professional demeanour only with pure strength of character and the hard-learned experience of his covert ops training. 

He keyed in the correct code, and once the gates slid soundlessly open, he drove slowly up to the house, parking up a short distance away in the deep shadows cast by the tall pines which bordered the driveway, and taking a few moments to orientate himself. Sending out his hearing, Jim quickly picked up his lover’s heartbeat, savouring the immediate grounding comfort it gave him even as he registered that it was somewhat irregular. Frowning in concern, because he understood from the conversations he had overheard between Milford and Whitmore that Blair was supposed to be heavily sedated, he came to the reluctant conclusion that his presence was both confusing and stimulating the young Guide despite the drugs in his system; a conclusion which was confirmed by the exclamations now issuing from within the house. 

“I don’t understand it! Look, Dave! He’s growing even more disturbed, even though I raised the dosage. Do something!” and the beginnings of panic were plain to hear in Milford’s raised voice. 

“OK, OK, Adrian! Just let me check him over, and take his vitals. I know you’re worried, and so am I, because God knows we’ve never had this sort of reaction before, and I can vouch for the quality of the stuff, I swear! It has to be something to do with the bond. Have you heard if Ellison’s in town?” 

Realising that Whitmore hadn’t yet been clued in by Milford’s informant at the Sheriff’s office, Milford replied with a note of satisfaction in his voice. 

“Yes, he is, and you won’t need to concern yourself about him for much longer. I’ve arranged for a little ‘accident’ to befall that damned throwback, so perhaps that’ll solve the problem once and for all when the bond’s broken!” 

Gaping at his friend in shock, Whitmore responded, “Jesus, Adrian! Are you sure that’s the best way forward? Because I have to say I’m not convinced that it won’t make matters worse! For all we know, popular belief might be correct, and you could end up by killing them both! Had you even thought of that?” 

Snorting in contempt, Milford snapped, “Rubbish, man! Even if you’re correct about the strength of the bond, I simply refuse to believe that something so intangible can actually kill my son! It’s Voodoo bullshit! 

“Now, for god’s sake, give him something to settle him!” 

At that moment, both men swung round in horror at the crash of the bedroom door slamming back against the wall, as the Sentinel, almost incandescent with rage burst into the room. Literally growling in fury as he stalked towards the small figure whimpering on the bed, Jim shouldered the doctor roughly out of the way before grabbing Milford by the front of his sweater and throwing him bodily aside to slam against the wall. 

“My Guide! Mine!!!” he snarled, quickly stooping down to stroke the sweat beaded brow with a gentleness that belied his previous actions and turning to face the two shaken men. 

“What did you give him, you fuckers?” he continued, eyeing them both as would a large hunting cat stalking its prey. 

“You should know that your little scheme didn’t work, Milford. Your three thugs are out of action, and I suspect that by now Mendoza will have dispatched as many people he has available to arrest both your worthless hides.” 

However, at that moment, Blair’s moans became louder and more pained as his mind registered the physical and mental touch of his Sentinel and fought to break free once and for all from the drug-induced fog. As the link strengthened by the second, he screamed in pure agony as the dam finally burst, and Jim was fully in his head once again, bringing with him the power to reclaim Blair’s lost memories, and overwhelming the young Guide with a deluge of emotion which was simply too much to bear in his weakened state. 

Desperate to comfort the suffering Guide, Jim scooped him carefully up into his arms and cradled him against his broad chest, rocking him and stroking his back with a large and comforting hand, the room’s other occupants temporarily forgotten. 

Fearing for his safety, if not his very life, Whitmore pressed himself flat against the wall, and sidled towards the door to make his escape. He fled downstairs to where his car waited, only to see flashing lights approaching at speed, and he realised that Ellison’s words were true, and that his arrest was imminent. 

With a sigh, he surrendered to the inevitable, and sank down wearily on the front step to await his fate.  


\------------------------  


On the other hand, Milford had no intention of giving up so easily after all his efforts to find and claim his son, and his face reflected Ellison’s own fury as he was forced to witness the scene in front of him. His rage and hatred of the Sentinel bordered on madness as he saw Blair turn his face into the big man’s neck, obviously seeking comfort, and far from fearful despite his very real pain. 

Grasping Blair’s heavy walking stick in both hands, Milford quickly but quietly advanced on the pair, intending to smash Jim’s apparently unprotected skull, only to have the blow deflected by Ellison’s forearm as the Sentinel was forewarned of the impending attack by the minute changes in the air currents preceding the blow. 

Loosing Blair to fall back against his pillows, Jim sprang to his feet, disregarding the pain from his badly bruised arm as he grabbed the walking stick even as it descended again, wrenching it from Milford’s grasp and seizing the other man’s wrists in a grip of steel. Milford was no weakling, and years of skiing had given him greater than average strength and fitness for a man of his age, but he was no match for a primal Sentinel, whose only goal at present was to tear the enemy limb from limb. Things would undoubtedly have gotten pretty messy right then, had not a soft cry from the hurting Guide stopped Jim in the very act of throttling Milford. 

Barely conscious, but subliminally aware that his lover was in pure BP mode, Blair whispered, “Please, Jim! I need you! Please stop!” 

The soft words worked better than any barked command, and gradually – if reluctantly - relaxing his grip around the other’s throat, Jim threw the stunned and gasping man to the floor, turning his full attention to the small figure on the bed. 

“It’s OK, baby. I’m here, and I’m never going to let you out of my sight again! I know you’re hurting, and I swear we’ll bond as soon as we can, honey,” and Jim resumed his cuddling and comforting of his beloved Guide even as the door opened again to reveal Mendoza and two of his deputies. 

Nodding briskly at the couple on the bed, Luis directed his men to cuff the still-dazed Milford and put him in his own patrol car to take him down to the station for charging. 

Just as he was dragged to his feet, however, Milford had one last question for Ellison. 

“How?” he croaked through his bruised throat. “How did you do it?” 

Knowing exactly what the man meant, Jim smiled coldly at him for a moment before replying, “It’s a Sentinel and Guide thing, Milford. With a bond as strong as ours, nothing is impossible,” and he turned his full attention back to his partner, the other man totally unimportant and already forgotten.  


\-----------------------------  


**Epilogue:**  


Three days later a subdued and somewhat introspective Jim and Blair entered the loft, with Jim supporting his pale and shaky partner, a strong and comforting arm wrapped around the young man’s waist. As he closed the door behind them, he looked down to study his Guide’s upturned face, noting eyes a little teary and smile a little tentative as the young man whispered, “It’s good to be home,” then, dropping his gaze as he shivered slightly, Blair continued almost sub-vocally, “I never thought I’d be back. I thought it was a dream. He said--” 

“Enough, little one!” responded Jim quickly, tipping Blair’s head back up to meet his gaze with a finger beneath the other’s chin. 

“All that drug-related crap was just that – crap! He played serious mind-games with you, babe, and he was good at it. He’d had enough experience after all! We’re just lucky that you’re way stronger than his other victims, and, more importantly, we had each other. No way was he going to win, baby. No way!” and he leaned down to take his lover’s soft lips in a gentle kiss, meant to reassure rather than arouse, because the gods only knew, Blair was exhausted from the flight and the preceding couple of days, kidnapping aside. 

Steering his partner towards the sofa, Jim said, “Sit down for a while, babe, and I’ll make some coffee. Looks like Simon’s been as good as his word, and he’s gotten some fresh groceries in for us. Unless you’d rather have tea?” and he could have bitten his tongue as his lover jumped a little before turning a pained expression on him. 

“Um, no thanks Jim. Coffee’ll be fine. I don’t think I’ll be drinking too much tea for a while....” 

“Sorry, lover, I didn’t think! But I’m sure you’ll get back into your teas before too long. You like them too much to give them up completely. It’ll just take a while to break the association with that asshole!” 

At his Guide’s watery smile and nod of agreement, he turned back to putting the coffee machine on, and while it perked, he came back over to sit beside Blair, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in for a cuddle. 

As Blair leaned into him resting his face against Jim’s chest, Jim looked down at the curly head beneath his chin, and let himself think about the last few days since he had rescued his Guide from Milford’s clutches.  


\-----------------------  


Once Milford had been dragged out of the bedroom to be bundled into Sheriff Mendoza’s patrol car, Jim had wrapped his groggy Guide in the comforter and scooped him up into his arms to carry him down to the ambulance Mendoza had the forethought to bring along with him. Under Luis’ concerned gaze, Jim placed his precious cargo in the back of the ambulance, keeping hold of a pale hand as the medics were forced to work around him, as it was obvious to all that Jim was going to ride with his partner to the ER. 

Ordering one of his deputies to drive Jim’s rental car back to his motel, Mendoza set about securing the property for his forensics crew to examine, whilst arranging for a similar investigation at Dr Whitmore’s premises. 

Once everything had been set in motion to his satisfaction, he returned to the station, approaching the upcoming interrogations with grim anticipation.   


\-------------------------------  


Although the Sentinel was desperate to bond with his Guide, Jim the man knew that Blair needed to be thoroughly checked over, and blood samples taken to determine just what kind of crap Milford had pumped into him. He just hoped that Blair wouldn’t be kept under observation for too long, because the need to bond was great, and growing by the hour. 

As it turned out, the staff at the ER had had dealings with a Sentinel and Guide team before, when the local pair had had cause to be admitted from time to time, so they had no problem with Jim staying close to his injured partner, even to the extent of climbing into the same bed to hold his troubled Guide as he struggled with drug-induced nightmares. 

Having taken blood samples, and quickly identifying the chemicals in the young man’s system, the doctor in charge of Blair’s treatment was relieved to report that the substances themselves were of good quality and not back-street rubbish, even though the mix was a cause for some concern. 

However, since it was preferable in this case that the treatment basically consisted of letting the drugs clear out of Blair’s system naturally without the introduction of further medication, the doctor had no real reason to keep Sentinel and Guide in hospital as long as they remained close for the next couple of days in case of a sudden relapse or serious deterioration on Blair’s part. He was only too well aware that the best treatment for both men was to bond as soon as possible, and for the Guide to stay close to his Sentinel where he would be cherished and comforted far better than in any hospital. 

His only stipulation was that Blair should get as much psychiatric help as necessary in the coming weeks after he returned to Cascade, to which Jim willingly agreed, before releasing his patient into Jim’s capable hands.  


\------------------------  


Once safely back in Jim’s motel room, the Sentinel had wasted no time in getting Blair settled in the queen-sized bed before stripping off his own clothing and climbing in beside his lover, who turned immediately and clung to him with the strength of desperation. Reining in his own burgeoning desire in order to properly prepare his tearful Guide, Jim carefully caressed and stroked Blair’s beautiful body, trying to replace the memories of Milford’s handling with touches of his own. 

With exquisite gentleness and unhurried movements, he made love to his fragile partner until, at the moment of their mutual climax, the bond shone between them, strong and renewed, comforting and reassuring them both that their healing had begun. 

In the afterglow of that first union, Blair had again clung to Jim, sobbing for long minutes as his turbulent emotions rode him unmercifully. Pain and fear, relief and love, and disappointment that his dreams of meeting his father had actually turned out to be the stuff of which nightmares are made. 

Added to the mix was a deep feeling of guilt and unworthiness for allowing himself to believe Milford’s lies even for one moment, and for accepting his assertion that his beloved Sentinel would abandon him. 

All through his not unexpected meltdown, Jim held him with a firm but gentle grip, whispering soothing words into his ear until the crying jag was done, and he slept in his lover’s arms, totally exhausted. 

Over the next thirty six hours, they had remained in their room, cocooned in their love and reaffirming their full sexual bond several more times as Blair worked through his grief, sending out for food when necessary, but otherwise keeping to themselves in Jim’s temporary ‘territory’. 

During that time, Sheriff Mendoza had been in touch several times, but was well aware of what was going on, and knowing that the pair had to re-establish their link, actually came in person to the room to take their statements rather than expect them to come into the office, for which consideration Sentinel and Guide were truly grateful.  


\------------------------  


Back in the loft, and hearing a gentle snore against his chest, Jim realised that Blair had fallen asleep against him as they sat in companionable silence on the sofa, so he decided that coffee could wait while Blair caught up on a bit more desperately-needed rest, especially as his body was still in the process of ridding itself of the residual drugs, and he was still troubled by nightmares, which would probably continue for some time to come. 

Allowing his thoughts to return to the events of the last few hours, Jim recalled with gratitude how supportive Mendoza had been of both of them, treating Blair in particular with sympathy and respect, and restraining himself from pushing the young man to offer more information than he was capable of providing under the circumstances. 

As for Jim, there was grim satisfaction in hearing how the investigation was going when Sheriff Mendoza dropped by a second time to bring them up to speed before giving the OK to fly back to Cascade. 

With Blair tucked up in their bed and sleeping soundly for once, Jim and the Sheriff had sat outside the motel room in the warmth of the evening as Jim listened with no small amount of gratitude as Mendoza had explained rather smugly how the case was progressing. Grinning wickedly, he had expressed his great satisfaction in that it looked as if the case against Milford was virtually a slam dunk, despite a few feeble attempts by Adrian’s ‘good buddies’ to supply character references or plead mitigating circumstances. 

As far as the search of the chalet was concerned, the forensics team had turned up a significant supply of drugs, both prescription and recreational, which Dr Whitmore had admitted to supplying under interrogation. The good doctor had also come clean about past episodes, confessing to his part in the seduction of several rich widows by Milford over the years in the hope that by making a full confession he could lessen his own sentence. 

As far as the attack on Jim was concerned, that had also rebounded on Milford, as Deputy Wiseman had quickly rolled over and admitted everything, ‘fessing up to being in the other man’s pay, providing the occasional dubious service and also confessing to having looked the other way in several other situations when Milford had needed a little privacy. 

Last but by no means least was Milford’s own furious reaction to not only being fingered by his own accomplices, but also to being thwarted in his greatest desire to claim his son for his own, and by some throwback Sentinel, no less. 

Completely ignoring his lawyer’s attempts to get him to show some restraint, Milford had snarled in real rage, ranting at his old friend’s treachery, before boasting of his previous achievements. Not only did he admit to Blair’s kidnap, which he thought was totally justified under the circumstances, but he explained with no little vitriol and complete and utter conviction as to how everything was actually Naomi’s fault. If she had agreed to let him meet his son in the first place, he would never have had to attack her, or resort to kidnapping Blair, because in all probability, Blair would never had met up with and bonded with Ellison. 

All that remained was for Milford to be tried, although Mendoza was less than satisfied on that score, since it looked very likely that Milford could well plead to ‘diminished responsibility’ with the help of his well-paid defence lawyer and a tame psychiatrist, and thus get away with being committed instead to a high class and comfortable sanatorium for an unspecified sentence. 

Smiling sadly down at the head resting so peacefully against his chest, Jim also recalled how he had had to break the news to his Guide, knowing that the empath would realise immediately that Jim was keeping something from him, much as Jim would have preferred to wait a little longer until Blair was a little more together before dropping his verbal bombshell. 

Not surprisingly, Blair had been devastated at the information that it was Milford’s attack which had ultimately caused his Mom’s death, but after the initial shock, Jim was greatly impressed by his lover’s strength of character as the young man surprised him yet again, pulling himself together with a tremendous effort before smiling softly at Jim, wet eyes telegraphing both deep sorrow and rueful acceptance as he said, “It’s so strange, Jim, but I can’t be too upset. It’s a kind of closure in a way, as at least her killer has been caught, and it helps to know why he did it, however twisted his reasoning. 

“That was the thing I could never understand or accept: Why anyone could even consider hurting Naomi. Ditzy she may have been, but she was love personified, and wouldn’t knowingly have hurt anyone or anything her whole life. 

“Now I know the truth, and although it really hurts to think that I was the cause of the whole mess, I’m too tired right now to take on any more guilt. It won’t bring Mom back, and that bastard will get what’s coming to him.” 

Even as he had pulled his lover in for a reassuring hug at hearing his words, Jim couldn’t help but think to himself that, should Milford get the easy option of committal in a sanatorium, the ex-Ranger had his own plans as to how to settle the score, not that he would ever tell Blair....  


\--------------------------  


**Three days later, Barney’s Bar, Cascade:**  


Laughing as he accepted another drink from an ebullient H, Jim looked over at where his lover was sitting, hands waving with customary enthusiasm as he recounted yet another fascinating anecdote for his very appreciative audience; Rafe, Joel and Megan in particular, who were soaking up everything the young man said. 

Pride in his Guide’s performance was tempered by the knowledge of what it was costing his lover, although he knew full well that Blair would never had passed up on attending Jim’s retirement party, however fragile he was feeling. 

“He doing OK, Jim?” said a deep voice in his ear as Simon moved up behind him to place a friendly hand on his shoulder. 

Turning to grace his old friend and ex-Captain with a sad smile, Jim replied quietly, “He’s getting there, Simon. Slowly but surely. It’s going to take time, because there are probably still a few traces of drugs in his system, and his emotions are all over the place, but he’s nothing if not resilient, and he wants to please me...” he added softly, with a slightly pained grimace. 

“The gods only know why, but he still feels as if he let me – our partnership – down. No matter he was drugged to the gills by that bastard, Blair’s Blair, and he always takes on more than his share of guilt. And I thought _I’d_ cornered the market on that particular emotion!” he ended wryly. 

“I think you both have,” replied Simon with a chuckle. “But don’t sell him short, Jim, or yourself for that matter. You’re a great team, and you’ll only get better as time goes on and your new business takes off. We’ll miss you in MCU, that’s a given, but hopefully Blair will eventually be able to resume a few cases on a consultant basis, so we’ll be able to keep track of you. 

“Now, go get your partner a drink, because I feel a few toasts coming on!” and he squeezed Jim’s shoulder amicably before moving away to retrieve a glass of champagne from Megan, who was presiding over the drinks table. 

Pausing for a few moments to get himself together, Jim considered his partner again, even as the young man, subliminally aware of his regard, turned to face him with a quizzical expression on his beautiful face. 

For the past few days since their return from Taos, Jim and Blair had stayed in the loft, since Jim refused to leave his lover alone to return to work for the few remaining days of his notice. During that time, the pair had talked, bonded, cuddled and talked again, until they had both achieved a measure of peace, and a definite reaffirmation of their bond. If Blair was much clingier now, needing the physical reassurance of his lover’s touch, Jim certainly wasn’t complaining. He could think of nothing better than having an armful – or lapful - of warm Guide at the slightest excuse, and he reciprocated with a will. 

They had both decided that they would benefit from a short vacation before recommencing with the opening of their new business, and both the PD and Rainier had been more than accommodating with granting Blair a temporary leave of absence, so they had both been relieved of pressure on that score. 

As for their colleagues and friends at the PD, Blair had insisted that he would be able to attend the leaving party they wanted to throw for Jim, and, after a few half-hearted protestations, Jim had accepted his decision. 

So now here they were, eating, drinking and generally enjoying the comradeship of not just their special friends at MCU, but many more from other departments, whose presence and genuine regard both gratified and humbled the Sentinel. 

Dragging his attention back to the present, Jim grinned wholeheartedly at his friend as Simon’s less-than-subtle bellow rang out, immediately drawing everyone’s attention to him. Feeling Blair moving up alongside, Jim reached out to enfold his lover to him, smiling happily down into the upturned face, rejoicing in the genuine sparkle he could see in the cerulean depths. 

“Ladies and gentlemen – I think!” began Simon, peering around him at the gathered throng in pretend speculation. 

“I’m going to keep this short...” glowering around him at the expected comments from the grinning peanut gallery. 

“I’ve known Jim for some years now, ever since he came to us from Vice with an attitude you could cut paper with!” and he glared at Jim, who had the grace to blush a little at the reminder. 

“However, thanks to a certain young consultant’s influence, we all discovered the good man – and good friend – behind the successful detective, whose presence I for one will miss very much in the bullpen,” and he paused for the sincere ‘hear, hears’ that backed up his words. 

“But we haven’t lost him – or Blair – altogether, folks!” - (Grins and cheers here) – “as they’ll be back in business once they get back from their honeymoon – er - I mean – vacation!” and he threw an unapologetic grin at the pair. 

As Jim and Blair chuckled with real pleasure, and Jim hugged his partner close, Simon raised his glass and said, “To Jim and Blair. It’s been a pleasure and privilege to work with you both, and I hope to do so again in your new capacity of PI and Security Consultant, Ex-Detective Ellison!” 

As the gathering raised their glasses to a man – and woman – and drank to the pair, Jim gazed around him in sincere gratitude, slightly bemused at finding his throat constricted by a lump of emotion that threatened to choke off his response. 

Looking down into the eyes of his beloved Guide, wherein he could see his own happiness, love and pride mirrored, he unashamedly dropped a kiss onto the wide brow before turning back to the crowd, raising his own glass and saying, “Thank you, Simon, and thank you all for being here for me and for Blair. I don’t have the words to describe just how much I appreciate your love and support, so I’ll just say ‘To our very dear friends’,” and he raised his glass to his lips, as did Blair, who met his gaze over the rim of the glass, expression glowing with pride for his Sentinel. 

Even as the crowd erupted in genuine applause, he took a moment to share a private word with his beloved Guide, clinking their glasses together and whispering, “To our future, baby. May our love be everlasting!” 

“No doubt about it,” came Blair’s even softer, but unequivocal reply.   


**The End.**


End file.
